


Ego versus Eros

by Lunavere



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Claiming, Crimes & Criminals, Dependent John, Displaying, Displays, Independent Sherlock, Independent/Dependent Variables, M/M, Marking, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pendentverse, Possessive Sherlock, Professor Sherlock Holmes, Student John Watson, Tattoos, Unilock, Voyeurism, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2017-12-28 14:52:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunavere/pseuds/Lunavere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson had heard warning after warning about taking one of Professor Holmes's courses.  He knew he should stay away if only for the sake of his grades.  However, when he reads the description for the module “Proper Criminal Investigation and Forensic Techniques,” he cannot help but enroll himself in the course and merely hope beyond hope that he doesn't regret his decision.</p><p>Surprisingly enough, though, Professor Sherlock Holmes takes an immediate interest in him, although whether that is good or bad is up for question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Ego versus Eros](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085224) by [CottonSiu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CottonSiu/pseuds/CottonSiu)
  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授权翻译] Ego versus Eros](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517044) by [KeepCalmAndPlayDumb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepCalmAndPlayDumb/pseuds/KeepCalmAndPlayDumb)



John Watson had heard warnings since he started his first year at Uni.  Professor Holmes was one of the toughest professors, and to get a passing grade from him was a Godsend.  Most explained that he just expected too much from most of his students, and he had no issue with publically humiliating anyone.  However, Professor Holmes taught anatomy, chemistry, biology, and psychology.  For most medical students, it was practically impossible to avoid having a class taught by Professor Holmes unless they started planning year one.

After making it a year and a half, John found himself at an impasse.  Professor Holmes was teaching a topics course called “Proper Criminal Investigation and Forensic Techniques.”  It centred on using common sense and medical knowledge to solve crimes at the scene of the crime.  In fact, he even claimed that every crime could be solved at the crime scene if someone just knew what they were looking for.  Despite knowing he might come to hate this class, John couldn’t keep himself from enrolling.  It was just far too interesting to pass up.

Now, he was sitting in the front of the class, waiting for Professor Holmes to enter.  The lecture hall was half-full, meaning a good 40 to 50 students, and everyone buzzed with excitement.  Pulling out his notebook, John settled into his chair.  He sat in the front of the lecture hall, knowing that it kept him from getting too distracted.  Quickly, he marked the date at the top of his page and then waited.

Time ticked by slowly, and John could hear people starting to get restless.  Chairs squeaked, papers shuffled around, impatient sighs emitted, and the rapping of pens replaced the previously excited chatter.  Ten minutes after the class was supposed to start, the side door burst open, banging against the wall, and Professor Holmes strolled in.  He was just as everyone described: tall, gaunt, striking, with unruly, dark hair, and cold, silver eyes.  Removing his coat, he carefully draped it over his chair before turning on the projector.

“Welcome to this module.  If you’re unsure of what this class will be about, please refer to the title of this course and then leave my classroom immediately because you are too unintelligent to pass,” Professor Holmes stated.  He opened up a PowerPoint and immediately flipped it to the first slide.  Waiting a moment, he glanced around the room.  “No one has left yet.  A promising start indeed.”  With that, he clicked to the next screen, which showed the definition of the course given in the module catalogue.  “This is also information that you should have previously known.  If you just blindly joined this course due to needing another credit, I would suggest that you quickly remove yourselves and sign up for a different course instead.”

John didn’t dare look behind him to see if anyone would leave.  Even so, he didn’t hear anything, and that was enough for him.  His pen remained at the ready to write at any moment.

Flipping to the next slide, Professor Holmes continued, “I will teach you the techniques required in order to understand a crime scene and all its aspects.  I will also put those techniques to the test.  All of your homework is optional.  I will not collect it nor will I grade it, as I don’t have the time for something so frivolous.  If you have questions about it, my office hours can be located online.  If you continue to have issues with keeping up, I suggest you drop my course.”

Shocked, John began to worry that maybe interest wouldn’t be enough to get him through this class.  He rapidly wrote himself a small note to check the drop date and other open modules that he might be able to join.

“Now, I have solved countless cases with these techniques.  I have also tried – fruitlessly, let me assure you – to teach these techniques before to both NSY detectives and your peers.”  He flipped to a new slide, this one of how the grades would be split.  “There are going to be three tests this semester.  Your later tests will weigh more than your first one.  This is why I advise you to do your homework.”  He then turned to face them.  “All of the cases you will see both in your homework and in this lecture room are ones that I solved on behalf of NSY, thus ensuring that the solution to the crime will be within the photos and evidence files you will receive.  The most key aspect that you can take away from this, though, is that you need to _observe_  and not merely  _see_.”  John wrote this down as well, feeling the need to write down something by this point.

Suddenly, a bloke called out, “How are we supposed to know that you’re not just talking a load of crock?”

John nearly choked on laughter when he heard that.  Who would dare to talk to a professor that way, nonetheless one as notorious as Professor Holmes?

“You want evidence,” Professor Holmes noted before smirking.  “Very well.”  Walking around his desk, he leaned back against it.  “Your government has - quite cleverly, I must admit - convinced you that there are two types of people in this world - Independents and Dependents - and that with one simple test, they can tell you which type of person you are.”

John shifted uncomfortably as he heard this.  He still remembered taking the Independent-Dependent Test, as did everyone.  John had been just as excited as everyone else to finally turn thirteen.  He couldn't wait to be declared as an Independent and make his family proud.  After all, Independents had all the power and respect in the world, and John felt he was definitely in that rank.  He had no doubt about that.

"From there, though, we do the rest of the work for the government.  Independents become more confident, more resilient, have larger goals in life.  Meanwhile, Dependents become more introverted and nurturing, less likely to voice their opinion even if they're right, and more needy in regards to affection.  Why does this happen?  The simple answer is that it is expected of them.  As an Independent, you cannot afford to be weak.  You must be ambitious in order to obtain a Dependent's affections.  Meanwhile, Dependents must be quiet and sensible in order to attract an Independent because they are under the impression that Independents cannot handle criticism or being wrong."  His eyes flickered across the faces of the students, and they landed on John for a long moment.  It seemed almost longer than the other ones.  "Most of you have been turned into sheep, blindly obeying what the government and media tells you.  That you should be a certain way or else you’re not really an Independent or Dependent or what have you.”  He shook his head.  “You don't  _think_ anymore.  Not that many people thought to begin with."

"What's your point?" the same bloke asked.

Rolling his eyes, Professor Holmes responded, "I know that you already have a Dependent because you were strong-headed as a boy and enjoyed sex with her far too much.  I know that you are now regretting that decision because she isn't what you want in life.  Too clingy.  Too needy.  And the sex isn't what it used to be because she no longer has to impress you."

The classroom went silent, and John dared to glance back.  The bloke had gone red in the face, and he snatched up his binder and backpack before storming out of the room.  John looked back at Professor Holmes in awe.  How on Earth had he known all of that?

"Anyone else share the same sentiments?"

John averted his eyes and wrote down a note to not insult or otherwise infuriate the professor.  No one else said a word.

"Good.  Now, take note that if any of you are squeamish about seeing blood, broken bones, corpses, and anything else you can imagine being included in solving crimes at the crime scene, I advise you to spare your stomachs and drop my course.  I will not tailor to your needs.  You might call this heartless, but let me assure you that murderers do not care what your triggers are.  Catering to your requests will not prepare you for the future.  So let go of those petty feelings now or - as I said previously - drop out of my class.”

Although John could feel the tension in the air, he couldn’t help but appreciate Professor Holmes’s sheer honesty.  It was a bit off-putting, yes, but also refreshingly new.  Smiling to himself, John jotted down a few more notes.

“Here’s your syllabus,” Professor Holmes stated before splitting the stack in half and handing a stack to John and a guy sitting just a few seats off to the right of him.  “I’m not your babysitter.  Everything you need to know about this course is stated here.  If you don’t notice an exam date until the day before, that’s your problem, not mine.  I will not give you extended time to work on anything.  It’s time you all learned that every action has a reaction, and those reactions have consequences.”

Immediately, John pulled out a highlighter and began to mark the important dates.  He wasn’t about to let anything pass him by.

“We will be studying Independent and Dependent cases separately so the less observant of you can notice the different trends between these crimes,” Professor Holmes continued.  “Now, unless any of you have questions, it’s time for you to get out of my sight.”  No one raised their hand.  After a couple of minutes, the students began to pack up their items.  Just as John was about to rise and leave, he saw a shadow cast over him.  Looking up, he found Professor Holmes looming over him.  “It’s illegal to keep your status hidden, you know.”

John started, his heart sinking and his heart quickened with adrenaline.  How had he figured it out?  Immediately, John touched the back of his right shoulder only to find cloth there.  He had definitely worn an Independent shirt today.  His tattoo was hidden... so then _how_?  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You touching your tattoo just proved me correct," Professor Holmes stated, smirking.  He then crossed his arms and examined John.  "You think they graded your test wrong.  How many times did you retake the I.D. Test before you just accepted that you scored as a Dependent?”

John scowled but said nothing in reply.

Tilting his head, Professor Holmes hummed softly to himself.  “I am assuming five.”

John flushed with anger and humiliation.  “Six,” he offered firmly, at least wanting to prove Professor Holmes wrong on that account.

“And yet you’re still unable to accept the fact that you’re a Dependent when you clearly are.”

Jaw setting, John bit back, “I am _nothing_ like a Dependent!”

Professor Holmes looked thoroughly amused by the statement.  “Nothing?  I must say that I’ve never seen someone in such denial before.”  With that, he grabbed John’s backpack and set it down onto the table.  He proceeded to open it and pull out the folder, which contained the syllabus, and notebook.  “You were remarkably eager to write down things today.  No one else did.  And I see you highlighted the information I told you to note.  Extraordinary eagerness to please is one marker for a Dependent.”

“I’ve seen Independents who were also eager to please,” John pointed out defiantly.

“Yes, well, I did say _one_ marker for a Dependent.  However, I do feel the need to point out that you were the only person in class to take notes.  A class otherwise full of Independents.”

John shook his head and snatched his folder back.  “Are you going to report me then?” he inquired.  A Dependent hiding his or her status was far from the worst crime in the world, but John would still prefer not having any black mark on his record.

“No, that isn’t my current plan,” Professor Holmes answered honestly before handing John back his notebook.  “But I will if you drop my class.  And I expect you to be wearing appropriate clothing come Wednesday.”

Shocked, John retorted, “No one will respect me if they know!”

It was the most painful truth of his life.  As long as John portrayed himself as an Independent, he was respected and his opinions mattered.  The moment they found out the truth, his words had less significance.  They started to see him as less capable, which was more than frustrating in group situations.

“And why, might I ask, do any of them matter?”

John sputtered, shocked by the question.  “They _matter_ because they’re my peers.  They matter because I have to work with them.  They matter because they have all of the power in the world, so the only thing I can do is-”

“Change that,” Professor Holmes cut in.  “People have been fighting oppression for centuries.  It used to be based on race or gender or economical status, but now it’s based on one small tattoo.  And as long as you keep yours hidden – remain ashamed of who you are – you’re never going to change anyone’s perception of Dependents.  You have to shove it in their faces that you are just as good as they are if not better.”

“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say.  You’re an Independent.  What do you know about any of this?” John bit back.

Professor Holmes smiled, but John caught a flash of pain.  His smile was tighter - not as cocky - and there weren't any crinkles around his eyes.  He was just smiling with his mouth.  Shocked, John started to feel guilty when he realised that he touched a sore subject.

“More than you think, actually,” Sherlock finally answered before turning on his heels.  Walking back over to his desk, he fetched his coat and continued walking.  “Let me remind you that I expect to see you in proper attire next class.  Goodbye, John Watson.”

John said nothing in reply, instead shouldering his backpack.  Fighting the urge to hit something, he all but stormed out of the lecture hall.

So much for staying hidden.


	2. Chapter 2

John hated Dependent “fashion.”  The shirts were only created to bring attention to the square tattoo on the Dependent’s back, right shoulder.  After all, it was the essence of a Dependent’s value.  When an Independent decided to claim a Dependent, they make an appointment, and the Dependent’s tattoo is filled with the Independent’s family crest and initials.  Therefore, empty meant that the Dependent was unclaimed.  Unfortunately, most Independents took this to mean that they were open to being claimed by literally anyone.  This unwanted attention was the cause of John hiding his mark in the first place.

Even so, this discomfort of having his mark revealed was nothing compared to the stares he felt upon his back.  To see an unclaimed Dependent at this stage of life was remarkably unusual.  Almost all Dependents were claimed in college or early in university.  John, however, saw it as a folly of youth.  How was he to be sure that, at sixteen or even seventeen, he wanted to be with a specific person for the rest of his life?

At the beginning of class, Professor Holmes walked over to John’s seat.  He twirled one finger, and John grudgingly rose to his feet and turned around.  “As I thought.  You are still unclaimed.”

“By choice,” John pointed out.

Professor Holmes smirked.  “Yes, I have no doubt about that.”  With that, he turned on his heels and headed back to the front of the room.  “Before we get started on investigating cases, we have to understand certain aspects of our culture.  Most of you won’t like what I’m about to tell you, so I want to make something clear before we continue.  _I don’t care._ ”  He quickly pulled up a PowerPoint.  “You see, there’s a distinct difference between what I am going to say and what you are going to say.  I will be talking about facts and statistics.  Meanwhile, you will be talking about opinions and prejudices.  Therefore, it would be best for all of you to just remain silent unless I prompt you for an answer.”

Trying to ignore the whispering happening behind him, John pulled out his notebook and took up his pen.  He wondered what information they would be given today and hoped that it wasn’t slated towards Independents.  If he had to sit through one more class and listen to how Independents were basically nothing less than the second coming of Christ, he would murder someone.

Suddenly, someone appeared just to the side of him, and he went rigid.  “What?  Already?” he muttered to himself before looking up.

“Hello,” the student stated, smirking down at John.  “How’re you doing today?”

“Fine,” John responded curtly.

The student waited a bit, obviously expecting for John to reciprocate the question.  “So, you’re not claimed.  That’s respectable.  Waiting for the right person to come around.”

“Yes, and you’re not it,” John bit back, glaring at him.

He stared at John in utter shock.  “You would be lucky to get me as your Independent,” he spat back.  “At this rate, you’re going to die a spinster!  Worthless piece of shit.”  With that, he stormed back up to his desk.

“Don’t mind him,” a girl murmured softly before smiling at John.  She leaned forward, letting her breasts show.  “I know a heterosexual when I see one anyway.  You’re looking for a female Independent, aren’t you?”  With that, she offered her hand.  “My surname is one of the oldest-”

John cut in, “I’m flattered by your interest, but I am just here for my studies, not to find an Independent.”

Clearly put off, the girl retracted.  “You’re not all that handsome anyway.  I would have just settled for dating you a bit.  That’s all.”

“Alright,” John muttered, not taking her word on that.  Most Independents didn’t deal well with rejection.  After all, society taught them that they were the best – that Dependents should be more than happy to take on their name and be with them.

Professor Holmes took up a piece of chalk and wrote “INDEPENDENT” and “DEPENDENT” on the board in sloppy handwriting.  John bit back a groan.  “Alright.  I want you all to list to me the characteristics of an Independent,” Professor Holmes requested.

“Strong!” one offered.

“Breadwinner!” exclaimed another.

Another person shouted, “Rational.”

“Yeah.  And confident!”

Slowly, the board began to fill up underneath the word “INDEPENDENT.”  Words like masculine, proactive, dependable, protective, hard-working, inventive, leader, ambitious, determined, and pioneering followed.  Professor Holmes said nothing as he continued to write them on the board.  Once there wasn’t anymore room, he took a step back.

“Now, I want you all to give me the characteristics of a Dependent,” he stated.

John sat rigid in his seat, bracing himself.  Immediately, the board began to fill: quiet/shy, sentimental, loyal, indecisive, homemaker, reserved, affectionate, needy, clingy, follower, gentle, and optimistic or idealistic.  He was positively seething by the end of the list, shaking with anger.  _This_ was why he hated being a Dependent.

Once Professor Holmes finished writing down the final words, he took a step back.  “Do you agree with this, John?” he inquired.

Blinking in surprise, John straightened in his seat.  “No, sir.  Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t describe who I am,” John responded.

Professor Holmes turned and looked at him.  “Yes, well, there is always an outlier.”

John pressed his lips together.  “Fine.  It doesn’t properly describe a lot of other Dependents I know.”

“Good.  Because what your peers have given me is a list of characteristics that society makes you think describe Independents and Dependents.  However, the truth is different.”  With that, he pulled up a new slide on the projector.  “This is pulled directly from the government’s website.  Now, people who test Independent show a tendency to be extroverted, protective, ambitious, and confident.  However, they also are more likely to be arrogant, possessive, sentimental, proud, hot-headed, procrastinators, and close-minded.”

“Th-that’s rubbish!” a girl exclaimed.

Professor Holmes smiled condescendingly.  “Thus further proving their point, no?  Now, why don’t we move on to Dependents?”  With that, he pulled up a new list.  John read down it quickly and was shocked by the list.  “They have a tendency to be introverted, nurturing, accommodating, submissive, and romantic.  That does not outweigh their other characteristics, though.  Dependents are the ones who are reliable, proactive, team players, logical, considerate, open-minded, and faithful.”  He smirked.  “Of course, these are just the top twelve characteristics for each side.  Numerous other factors are tested for when you take the I.D. Test in order to give you an accurate result.”  Changing to the next slide, he continued, “What I would like to point out is that neither intelligence nor creativity is taken into account.  So when looking at our cases, do not merely dismiss a possibility because it doesn’t seem reasonable for a Dependent to be that intelligent or an Independent to be that creative.”

“So what _will_ we be using to figure out who our culprit is?” John pressed.

Professor Holmes clicked for a new slide.  “Common sense, statistics, and medical knowledge.”

“Statistics?” another student inquired, her voice wavering with laughter.  “What?  Are 82% of stabbings done by Independents or something?”

“Far more interesting than that,” Professor Holmes retorted.  John couldn’t help but smile.  Most professors catered to Independents, wanting to make them feel special, and it was nice to see someone so unbiased.  “76% of murders are committed by Independents.  Of the 24% that are committed by Dependents, half of them are committed due to abusive relationships.  33% are committed due to jealousy.  And the last 17% are done either because their Independent pressured them to or worked with them in the murder.”

Suddenly, a bloke called out, “I think your math is wrong, Professor.”

Professor Holmes glared at the student.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, if only 24% of the murders are committed by Dependents then 50% is impossible because it’s over twice the percentage of murders committed,” he explained.

John stifled his laughter, shaking with it.  The sheer stupidity of that comment had taken him entirely off guard, and to see the professor look so baffled and incredulous was priceless.

“Out!” Professor Holmes exclaimed.

The student balked.  “S-sir?”

“Get out of my classroom before you lower the I.Q. of all your peers!” he snarled.

John couldn’t help himself.  He looked back to see who on Earth could have managed to get into Uni without a basic understanding of maths.  After a delay, a brunet bloke packed up his bag before shuffling out of the lecture hall.  John burst into laughter as soon as the door closed, and startled gazes fell upon him.  Honestly, they could stare all they wanted.  That, however, was one of the funniest things John had ever experienced, and he knew that – in years to come – he would be telling this story over a pint to some friends.

“If Mr Watson could control his amusement, we’ll continue with the course,” Professor Holmes stated, although a twitch of his lips signalled that he was amused.

Quickly, John swallowed his laughs, morphing them into chuckles, as he returned to taking his notes.

“Now, Dependents are twice as likely to be the victim of violence than Independents, but Independents are more likely to be killed.  Do with that information what you will, but none of these statistics I have given you will mean anything if you don’t know how to use them.”

With that, Professor Holmes flipped to a new slide.  On it, there was a woman all dressed in bright pink, and John grimaced at her taste in colours.  Such a bright pink must have brought a lot of attention to her form – maybe that’s what she wanted, though.  Next to that picture was one of her empty tattoo and one of her scratched up nails.

“What can you tell me about her?” Professor Holmes inquired.

Immediately, a girl raised her hand.  “She is a Dependent,” she blurted out before he called on her.

John’s eyes flickered up to the mark on her shoulder, and he blinked in surprise.  That… wasn’t right.  The tattoo wasn’t right.  “No, she’s not,” he refuted immediately.

“What are you talking about?” the girl retorted.  “Look at her!  Besides the fact that she has a Dependent mark, there’s no way an _Independent_ would wear clothes like _that_.  Look at them.  They’re hideous!”

Scoffing, John retorted, “That’s not a real tattoo.”

“How do you know?” Professor Holmes inquired, his eyes unwavering.

John pointed at the photo.  “Dependent tattoos are done at hospitals by government trained professionals.  This is to ensure their perfection.  All the lines are the same length and thickness.  Hers, though…”  He motioned to the photo.  “Hers uses the outline of the hole, but fabric is flimsy.  It moves too easily, and whoever traced it out on her back couldn’t make the lines even.  Look, the bottom line is slightly diagonal to make up for the differences in lengths for each one.  Not only that, but the tattoo dips behind the cloth.  It’s because some of her lines are too thick.  She’s an Independent posing as a Dependent.”

“But why would she do that?” the girl retorted.  “Who would want to even pretend to be a Dependent?”

John was at a loss for words.  Hell, he didn’t even want to be a Dependent, so how could he understand an Independent who did?

Professor Holmes cut in, “Because there are perks to being a beautiful, unclaimed Dependent.  For one, it’s easier to receive information from an Independent who hasn’t claimed anyone yet.  They will give away information more willingly, thinking that it might be a way to woo a Dependent into a second date – or possibly more, depending on who the Independent is.  In any case, it would have benefitted her, as she was a reporter who came into London for the weekend.”

“Wait, how do you know she’s a reporter?” John inquired.

“Pink,” Professor Holmes answered.  “It’s a horrendous colour, is it not?  And to wear it from head to foot with complimenting nail polish – it means that she was going to an event, and she wanted to catch attention.  Her clothes would have made her stand out from the rest, meaning her questions had a higher probability to be answered.”

John blinked.  That made total sense, but he had never noticed before.  Hell, he had never thought that there was a single perk in being a Dependent, and turning the tides on an Independent hadn’t crossed his mind since all he wanted was for Independents to leave him alone.

Honestly, he wondered what else Professor Holmes would make him notice.


	3. Chapter 3

“Thank you, but I’m not interested,” John stated before opening the door to Professor Holmes’ lecture hall and heading inside.

In the matter of weeks, he must have turned down every single Independent at the university.  It didn’t matter if he had a class with them or was just passing by – he was open game to all of them.  Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they had a game going to see who could claim him first.  Might even celebrate when it happened, but John knew that it wouldn’t.  He had known since he was thirteen that he wouldn’t give himself to just _anyone_.  Someone would have to earn the right to claim him.

Sitting down, he pulled out his notebook and wrote down the date in the top, right-hand corner.  Five minutes after class started, Professor Holmes walked in and took off his coat before draping it across the back of his chair.  “How many of you did the homework?” he inquired before looking out at the class.

John blinked in surprise and raised his handWO.  After being told the first day that Professor Holmes didn’t care if they did the homework or not, he figured that they would never be asked about it.  Even so, he had done every bit of work given to him, knowing it would help on the upcoming test.  He raised his hand, smiling proudly.  Despite himself, he glanced back and noticed most of the other students raised their hands as well.

“Perfect!  Turn them in to me!” Professor Holmes stated.

Shocked, John balked.

“But Professor!” a student immediately objected.  “Professor, you said that you didn’t care about our homework.  I thought you weren’t going to collect them.”

Professor Holmes smiled condescendingly.  “What does your syllabus say for today?” he asked.

Immediately, a girl called out, “It said that we’re taking our first exam today.”

“As it happens, your first exam was a take-home exam.  Your homework to be exact.  Now, if you would turn it in–”

“You can’t be serious!” a bloke exclaimed.

“Do I seem to be the sort of person with a joking disposition to you?” Professor Holmes bit back.  “I told all of you that I wasn’t going to coddle you.  For those of you who decided that you were going to opt out of doing my assignments, you are now coming to the realisation that your actions have consequences.  Welcome to real life.”

John worried over his homework.  He had worked hard on it, but had he known it was for a grade, he would have given it a second look after finishing it.  Suddenly, his homework was ripped from his hands, and Professor Holmes held it up for the class to see.

“On my desk.  Now.”  Professor Holmes took his work over and set it down on his desk in order to designate where to set their packets.

Several students slowly rose to their feet and made the trek down to the front of the room.  Only half of the people who raised their hands actually turned something in.  John sucked in a deep breath and shook his head, trying to clear it of any doubts.  He did fine.  And if he didn’t, the next two tests would weigh more.  He would do better then.

Suddenly, a mobile went off.  John looked up in surprise, and Professor Holmes walked around to his coat and pulled it out.  A smile spread across his face.  “Good then.  Class dismissed.”

John was shocked, along with the rest of the class.  Professor Holmes quickly scooped up the papers and put them into a drawer, locked it, and grabbed his coat before walking out of the room.  Blinking, John eventually came to terms with the fact that he wasn’t kidding.  Class was over for the day.  He began to pack his things.

 Without warning, a shadow engulfed John, and he sighed.  “I’m flattered, but I’m really _not_ interested.”

“I haven’t even asked you anything yet,” Professor Holmes replied.

Jumping, John looked up to find the Professor before him.  “I thought you had somewhere to be.”

“I never said that.”

“Your gait said that,” John answered.  “You booked it out of this room.  So why are you back?”

Professor Holmes smiled.  “I see my classes are sinking in.”

Shaking his head, John finished packing up his bag before rising to his feet.  “So why did you come back?” he inquired.

Frowning, Professor Holmes scoffed.  “Come now.  You’re brighter than that.  Deduce it.”

“Alright.  Well.  You left in a hurry, but if you had forgotten something, you wouldn’t have come over to me.  So… you came over to me for a reason.  You… want something from me?”

Professor Holmes smirked.  “You’re catching on much faster than your peers.  I can tell.  Your eye movement around a photo is getting faster.  Your hand is consistently one of the first raised when I ask a question, and your responses contain far more evidence than most.  Even when you’re wrong, I can understand how you came to your deductions.”  Professor Holmes sucked in a deep breath.  “There’s actually a small glimmer of hope that you might catch on enough to make something of this.  And the only way to check this is through hands-on learning.”

John stared.  “Y-you want me to come with you to a crime scene?” he finally deduced.

“Think of it as extra practice for your tests,” Professor Holmes explained.  “Come on then.”  With that, he started towards the door.

“I haven’t even accepted the offer yet!” John retorted.

Professor Holmes chuckled.  “Don’t play coy now.  I know you’re dying to put those skills to further use.  Come along.”

John set his jaw before groaning.  Fuck.  Professor Holmes was right.  He was absolutely dying for a chance to use what he learned in a real life setting, and he wasn’t about to pass this up.  Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he jogged to catch up.

“Where are we going?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Professor Holmes inquired.  “A crime scene.”

John resisted rolling his eyes and followed him out of the building.  “Yes, I had assumed.  But I meant _where_ is the crime scene?”

“Hyde Park,” Professor Holmes answered as he hailed a cab.  Opening the door, he looked back at John.  John immediately slipped inside before turning to find Professor Holmes right behind him.  “You have been keeping up with the news, correct?”

Hesitating, John responded, “I’ve been… trying to?”

“But you have, no doubt, heard about the Dependent murders that have been happening.”

“Of course I have.  Every Dependent has.  What are they calling him?  The Dependent Destroyer?  Or something absolutely ridiculous like that.”

“Dependent Debaucher,” Professor Holmes corrected.  “They believe he’s taken another life.”

John remained silent for a long moment as that information washed over him.  Another life taken.  “Shame,” he whispered, staring down at his lap.  “Doesn’t that make it fo-”

“Five,” Professor Holmes answered.  “It was a double event.”

Blinking, John felt his heart jolt as he heard the phrasing.  “You mean-”

“Yes.  Like Jack the Ripper.  We thought that the pattern has been close, but this confirms it,” Professor Holmes informed him.

John felt his heart sink.  “But that means there’s-”

“Going to be one more victim.”

“You really should stop cutting me off,” John snapped.

Professor Holmes scoffed.  “I’m finishing your sentences,” he corrected.

“It’s irritating.  I have my own voice for a reason.”

Smiling, Professor Holmes hummed in acknowledgement.  “What were you going to say then?”

“Well, if this person is going by Jack the Ripper’s schedule, we have a good month before the next murder,” John pointed out.  “And since you can solve crimes at the scene, this should be a walk in the park for you, right?”  He couldn’t help but grin at his own pun, far too satisfied with his quick thinking.

Professor Holmes remained silent for a long moment.  “I might or might not have exaggerated a touch for this topics course.”

“You lied.”

“I said, exaggerated,” Professor Holmes pointed out.  “Those two words are not synonymous.  The worst I did was make my skillset a touch more…”

John pressed his lips together in order to keep from smiling.  Professor Holmes, caught.  It was a sight that most would probably never see. “You lied,” he stated.  “So you cannot solve every case at the crime scene.”

“Of course I can,” Professor Holmes quickly retorted.  “By the end of the case, I might have information that I didn’t when I was at the crime scene, but I notice something that would have hinted to that.”

“Oh, my God,” John groaned out, shaking his head.  “You’re just like every other Independent!  Bullshitting your way through life because people will believe you as long as you sound confident enough!”

Suddenly, Professor Holmes rounded on John.  “I am _nothing_ like the Independents that you know,” he hissed, his eyes narrow and burning with contempt and disappointment.  “I am better.  My skillset is still far beyond yours, and I’ll prove as much.”

With that, the cab stopped, and Professor Holmes opened the door before getting out.  John remained still for a long moment, still trying to process what had just happened.  There was something almost predatory about Professor Holmes.  Something wild… untameable.  Something remarkably Independent.

“Come along!” Professor Holmes called out, already duking under the crime scene tape.

Jumping out of the cab, John trailed behind and halted outside the tape.  “Professor?” he called out, wanting to make sure that it was alright for him to enter as well.

“Come along, John!” Professor Holmes repeated, glancing back to see if John was following him as he continued forward.

“I’m sorry.  Who is he?” a woman inquired as John ducked underneath the tape.

Without missing a beat, Professor Holmes answered, “You’ve done nothing offensive _yet_ , Sally.  No need to apologize.  Unless, of course, it’s a pre-emptive apology for something you’re about to say.  I highly doubt that, though.  You’ve yet to show the foresight to manage such an ability.”

“Who is _he_?” she pressed again, hurrying to cut him off.

“He’s with me.”  Professor Holmes stopped less than a metre from the body and tilted his head slightly.

Suddenly, another man – an older man with greying hair – came out of nowhere.  “Name?” he inquired.

“John Watson,” John answered.  Although Professor Holmes seemed more than capable of mocking New Scotland Yard, John was not about to take his chances.

“Oh, my God.  He’s a Dependent,” Sally exclaimed, staring.

John bristled.  “What of it?”

“An _unclaimed_ Dependent.  John, you need to run the other way from Sherlock Holmes if you’re thinking about letting him claim you,” Sally informed him.  “Drop his course.  Take up a hobby.  Preferably something that gets you out of London every now and again.”

“Firstly, no one has said a word about claiming,” John pointed out, far too irritated now.  “Secondly, I haven’t made it this far in life unclaimed because I’m easily won.  If you want to claim me, you’re going to have to work hard for it.  Thirdly, just because you’re an Independent doesn’t mean that your advice or wisdom is suddenly valuable.  And finally, it’s illegal for a professor to claim one of their students at our university.  Professor Holmes would have to wait until I passed his class before he could even think about claiming me.”

Suddenly, the man who asked for John’s name began to laugh.  “Sally, I think you underestimated this young man here.”  He held out his hand.  “DI Greg Lestrade.  Pleasure to meet a like-minded man.”

Baffled, John shook his hand and nodded.  “Pleasure to meet you as well,” he murmured.  When Lestrade turned, though, John was shocked to see a filled tattoo on his back.  A claimed Dependent.  John just assumed that DI Lestrade was an Independent like Sally and Professor Holmes.  “Y-you’re a Dependent?”

“Just like you,” Lestrade acknowledged before turning to face Professor Holmes.  “Now, Sherlock, what do you have for me?”

Professor Holmes stared at the body.  “Was there a note sent into NSY?”

“We’re sifting through our mail now, but we haven’t found anything promising yet,” Lestrade answered.

Professor Holmes frowned.  “Also unclaimed.  Why unclaimed, though?”

“Maybe they turned him down?” Lestrade responded.  “Fighting against the ‘natural order of things,’ perhaps?”

Professor Holmes hummed.  “Unlikely.”  He then looked back at John.  “What do you observe?”

Stepping forward, John looked down at the body and remembered his training to keep himself from getting sick at the sight of it.  A real corpse.  A person who had been alive and was now dead.  Mortified and intrigued, he stared down at it.  The back was mutilated, every piece of skin cut except for the tattoo.  Honestly, it almost appeared as if crimson ribbons were coming from her back.  He could probably tie several knots with the strips of skin – make a bow out of it.  For a long moment, John was horrified with his own imagination, and he shook his head before focusing on something else.  The woman had obviously been stripped of her shirt first, but it seemed that the killer hadn’t cared to remove her bra, which was mangled with bits and pieces mixed into the wounds.  But there was no blood on her trousers.  She must have already been laying down when they did this.  Not struggling either.  Probably already dead then.

“Th-this happened last night,” he noted, seeing how dry the blood was on the skin.  That, and she had obviously cooled down in the warm weather. “No one noticed before now?”

“We got the call in just as we were wrapping up at the other crime scene,” Lestrade answered.

John frowned and continued to stare.  “Whoever it is, they’re fixated on the empty tattoo.”

“Obviously,” Sally scoffed.

“But what if it’s not because of hatred.  What if it’s jealousy?  What if a Dependent’s doing this?  A Dependent who decided too soon to be claimed and is now taking out their anger on the unclaimed?” John inquired.

Professor Holmes smiled as he heard the deduction.  “That’s a fair deduction,” he answered, causing John’s heart to swell.  That was high praise indeed from Professor Holmes.  “But the evidence you have to support it is the same that could be used for any number of other theories.”

“So what’s your theory?” John pressed.

Professor Holmes examined the corpse a bit longer.  “I believe you’re on the right track, but for different reasons.  Self-hatred is seen through this, but not for the Dependent.  Dependents don’t usually display this much anger towards something.  They’re taught by society to just accept their lot and make the most of it.  No.  I think that this is a duo.  I think the motivation comes from the Independent but the Dependent is the one acting.”

“You have no more evidence than I do, though,” John pointed out.

Professor Holmes smirked.  “No.  But I have more experience.  Trust me, John.  This is a team effort.”

“Well, that narrows it down,” Sally noted sarcastically.  “We’ll just be on the look-out for a Independent-Dependent couple then.”

Lestrade frowned.  “It’s rather falling into place, though, isn’t it?  It was also impossible back then for the police to get a solid case on Jack the Ripper.  The descriptions were too vague.  It could be anyone.  Again, here…”

Taking a step back, John subconsciously touched his empty tattoo again.  It wasn’t a common thing to see – Dependents this old without an Independent.  It struck home for him.  This person could easily have been him.

“You have no reason to be alarmed.  You’re still too young to be a target,” Professor Holmes murmured to him.  He then backed away from John.  “Any witnesses this time?”

Lestrade shook his head.  “Not a one.  Nothing caught on the CCTV either.”

“Already have my brother look into that for you, did you?” Professor Holmes jeered.  “Good to see that he’s just as useless as ever.  Very well.  I want full access to the previous four files and all their evidence.”

Sighing, Lestrade glanced back at the victim.  “So you think they’ll do this again.”

“Yes.  They still have one more murder left before they disappear for good if they keep to the Ripper’s schedule.  We have no time to waste,” Professor Holmes answered as he started towards the road once more.  “Come along, John.  The game is on!”


	4. Chapter 4

“I better go, Professor,” John stated.  After collecting the evidence from NSY, they had – quite literally – smuggled it out and to Professor Holmes’ flat on Baker Street.  “Thank you for allowing me to observe a real case.”

Professor Holmes’s head snapped up, and he stared at John, his eyes flickering across John’s form as if they were searching for something specific.  “We’re only partway through the evidence.”

Rubbing his eyes, John answered, “Yeah, but I have class tomorrow, and it’s near 3 in the morning.  By the time I get back, it’ll be four, and I’ll have just enough time to sleep for five or six hours before getting up.”

Professor Holmes nodded towards the sofa that was stuffed away in a corner.  “Just sleep there.”

“Why?  I’ll still have to get back tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, but at least the Tube will be open then,” Professor Holmes pointed out.  “And I know you don’t have the money to waste on cab fare.”

That was painfully true.  John shrugged and slumped over to the sofa before flopping onto it.  As soon as he closed his eyes, he realised there are an issue.  If he slept on his side or stomach in order to bury his face in his pillow and block out what light there was, his empty tattoo would be fully exposed in his sleep.  John was sensitive about it since it made him feel vulnerable.  After all, if someone came in, people might talk.  They could make assumptions or – even worse – draw more Independents to harass John while he was there.  However, if he hid his tattoo, the light was far too bright for him to merely ignore.

“Stop shuffling!” Professor Holmes snapped before John received a face full of cloth.  Startled by the sudden feeling, he opened his eyes to see that Professor Holmes had chucked his coat at him.  “And stop thinking so much!  It’s distracting me.”

“Psychic now, are we?” John jested as he snapped the coat in the air so that it would drape over his body.

Professor Holmes didn’t respond, and John just shuffled underneath the coat and pressed his face into the sofa pillow.  Immediately, his mind began to wonder if other people have slept on this sofa.  Or done other things on it.  Was it here before Professor Holmes moved in?  It appeared rather old, after all.  What if this pillow had been under a bum as-

“Stop it!” Professor Holmes exclaimed.  “You’ll never get to sleep at this rate!”

Amused, John couldn’t help but chuckle.  After all, it seemed that Sherlock Holmes was nothing more than a child.  John suspected he would be saying that Mummy liked him best before long.  Slowly, though, John’s mind began to drift and grow heavy.  It felt like gravity had increased, and he passed out before he even knew what was happening to him.

Dreams always slightly tormented John.  When conscious, he supposed that’s what he got for training to become a surgeon.  He had to see the awful, gory details.  That, and his now budding fascination with crime caused his mind to go into overdrive when he slept.  Tonight’s featured dream sent him back to old East End of London – John just _knew_ that’s where he was.  Cobblestone streets and hearty laughter from the numerous pubs just confirmed it still.

But John couldn’t go in a pub.  No, it would risk all of their lives.  He had to go home.  Sprinting down the street, he glanced back to see if that person was still following him, and his mind filled with terror as he saw that they were… and they were gaining on him.  Adrenaline spiked his blood as his heart pounded to get more oxygen to his system.  His body thrummed with energy and life, and he wasn’t about to let that be taken away.

Suddenly, John felt a hand on his shoulder, and he let out a scream of panic as he was ripped around.  This was it.  He was going to be killed.

“You can fly, John,” a familiar baritone voice sounded out.  “You have wings.  Fly.”

Confused, John looked back to see he had grown a pair of beautiful white wings.  He immediately kicked off the ground and began to flap them.  For a long moment, he thought that they might not work, as he didn’t fly whatsoever, before finally rising away from the danger.  He was safe.  As he soared high above London, he gazed down and wondered how on Earth he had never noticed the wings before.  He started to descend, gradually losing his power.  And then it abruptly ended, and he started to fall towards the ground.

John woke from the dream and snapped his eyes open.  Alive.  Stretching, he felt his back cracked, and he let out a soft moan before flopping back into the sofa.  Suddenly, the dream flooded back into his mind.  Well, that had been different.  Normally, John woke up from those dreams in a fit of terror. Then he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep for another hour.  Repeat forever.

Opening his eyes, John found Professor Holmes leaning against the armrest of the sofa, right next to John’s head, as he read a document.  Something about seeing Professor Holmes triggered his memory of the voice.  It had been familiar – but why couldn’t he remember exactly what it said and how it said it?  Frowning, he nestled back down and said nothing.  He had probably just dreamed it up himself.  After all, how would Professor Holmes even know what he was dreaming about?  It wasn’t as if he was actually telepathic.  Definitely just his imagination then.

“Anything?” John inquired, his voice still groggy.

Professor Holmes answered, “Plenty of things.  Just nothing that would lead us directly back to the killers.”

“Why do you think they’re doing this?  Why just unclaimed Dependents?” John inquired.

Humming, Professor Holmes picked up another sheet of paper.  “Could be plenty of reasons.  My opinion is still being formed by- OH!”  He sprang to his feet and rushed over to the table before shuffling frantically through the papers.  “That’s clever.  Very clever.  I didn’t notice it before.  I mean, it was smart to use different systems, but still, it’s there…”

“What’s there?” John inquired.

“The way they located their victims,” Professor Holmes answered before holding up several sheets of paper.  “They’re using dating situations to locate unclaimed Dependents.  Speed dating in cafés or online websites – they might have even used a matchmaker, but it’s impossible to tell with the current information.”

John frowned.  “But why?”

“Not enough information to accurately attest to that,” Professor Holmes informed him before turning to look at John.  “How do you feel about online dating?”

Shrugging, John answered, “For some, it works.  For others, it doesn’t.”

“What about for you?” Professor Holmes pressed.

Cocking his head to one side, John examined his professor for a long moment before realising what he was asking.  “Oh, no,” he stated.  “No, no, no.  You said that I was too young to be their mark.”

“And you very well might be,” Professor Holmes answered.  “But there’s no sense in not at least giving it a shot.”

John let out a bitter laugh.  “No way in Hell.  I get harassed enough in real life.  I’m not going to subject myself to it online as well.”

“I would manage the accounts,” Professor Holmes answered.  “All I would need is your date of birth and Dependent number for verification.  I’ll make sure that you never read a word from any potential suitors.  They won’t receive an address or any of your private information.  It’ll be an entirely different John Watson.”

“Even so,” John answered, “you have no guarantee of success.”

Professor Holmes retorted, “And you have no guarantee of failure.”

“There are plenty of sites out there for matchmaking.  The killer or killers could be on any number of them!”

“Ah, but they’re not,” Professor Holmes answered.  “They’re on _all_ of them.”

Rolling his eyes, John responded, “Ah, yes, _that_ lowers it down.  Are you just going to hope that I’m a match for them then?  Look for a repeat offender on those sights?”

“Actually no,” Professor Holmes answered.  “I’m going to use your account to gain access to the victim’s profiles, which you can only see as a member.”

John frowned.  “Why don’t you use your own name and number?”

“Because it’s common knowledge that I work with NSY.  If the killers ever go back to the profiles to see that I was on there, they would know that I was onto them,” Professor Holmes explained.  “Now, John, you’re trying my patience with your questions.  You could have figured this all out on your own.”

Sighing, John responded, “Very well.  My deduction skills are telling me that you’re not going to give up until you get my date of birth and Dependent number.”

“That would be correct.”

“You do realise that I could have you reported for this,” John pointed out.

Professor Holmes smirked.  “But you won’t,” he stated.  “Because you’re just as interested – if not more so – in having these people arrested.  Therefore, stop with this façade of reluctance.  You’re only worried about giving me your Dependent number because you know that means I could file to claim you at any point.  However, do you honestly believe that I’m interested?”

John was startled by just how much that hurt.  Never before had he been so thoroughly rebuked by an Independent.  In fact, he had never been rejected by an Independent before.  “No.  Why would you be?” he inquired rhetorically before writing down his information.  “There.  Now, I best be off.  I have class today, after all.”

Before Professor Holmes could even say a word, John was out of the room and heading towards the nearest exit.  It bothered him that that had _hurt_.  Why?  What was the point?  It wasn’t as if he wanted Professor Holmes to claim him.  God, that would be a match made in Hell if nothing else.  Professor Holmes was arrogant, standoffish, and condescending at best.  Why would John want to be stuck with a man like that?

Even so, he had never really thought about who he wanted to wind up with in this world.  In fact, he had become determined to just make it alone.  Who needed an Independent anyway?  They just got in the way, after all.  Some of them even had the gall to dictate what their Dependents studied – if they studied at all – and whether or not they could work… and even where!  Honestly, that was the last thing that John needed in his life right now.  He would be just fine on his own.  Then he would be able to make his own choices – live his own life – have his own flat and job.  He could make his own friends and never have to worry about upsetting his Independent.  That was the life he had always wanted. 

Still, that didn’t explain why Professor Holmes’s reproof had hurt so badly.  He supposed it might be due to the fact that Professor Holmes actually treated him as an equal to his peers.  Although he didn’t want to admit it, that meant the world to him.  He was finally being acknowledged – as a Dependent – that he was just as sharp if not sharper than the Independents in his class.  Professor Holmes had marked him as special, something that had never happened to John before.  Honestly, the feeling was intoxicating.

Then perhaps he had been hoping Professor Holmes wanted to claim him?  But that made no sense either.  Never once did he actually think on that subject, and when that detective inspector mentioned it before, he had vehemently rebuked him.  Sighing, John shook his head, still just as confused as before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this story wasn't updated last weekend. University's just been super busy, and I'm struggling to find motivation to write nowadays. Thank you for your patience.


	5. Chapter 5

John turned on the weather channel as the kettle heated up for his morning cuppa.  High chance of rain, as always, and cold, as per usual.  Sighing, he prepared his morning tea before heading back to his bedroom.  He opened up his closet and set the cup down.  He wanted to wear his Independent shirts again – the ones that didn’t have that atrocious hole to reveal his tattoo – because he felt far more comfortable in them, but he was sure that far too many people knew his status now.  If he was caught hiding it, it could leave a black mark on his otherwise spotless record.

He slid past the short-sleeved shirts, as it was far too cold today to wear them, and found a nice, striped jumper to wear.  Tugging it on, he turned his back to the mirror and peered over his shoulder.  There were two types of cuts for Dependent clothes – one that revealed black lining of the mark and one that didn’t.  This one blocked out the black outline, just showing his bare skin.  For a moment, he wondered what it would look like filled with an Independent mark.  What did the Holmes family crest even look like?

“I did not just think that,” John stated before grabbing his tea and taking a sip.  “I did _not_ just think that!”

Pulling on a pair of jeans, he trudged back into the kitchen and made himself a bowl of cereal.  How could he even entertain that thought?  He wanted to be independent – to remain unclaimed – for his whole life.  And he could do it.  He could very well be the first recorded Dependent in the United Kingdom to die unclaimed.  Wouldn’t that be something?  If nothing else, at least his name would live on in that regard…

John finished up his breakfast before pulling on his jacket and slinging his bag over his shoulder.  At least he didn’t have to go to Professor Holmes’s class today.  He didn’t know how he would have been able to face him after their conversation last night.  Even now, his emotions were doing backflips and cartwheels in his mind, refusing to stay in one place.  It was as if they feared being pinned down and sorted out as well.  Because what if he actually wanted to be with Professor Holmes?  It was a terrifying thought to have.  Professor Holmes was logical to the point of being insensitive, and for John to place his heart into the hands of that man would be bar none the dumbest thing he could ever do.  Last night proved that much.

It didn’t take long before John was comfortably sitting in his anatomy class, having ignored two Independents who thought that they would be able to woo John by talking about how ‘bloody sexy’ he was until they finally just went away.  Professor Eames was giving her advice of things not to do when first starting an internship – a conversation that had been started before class – when the door burst open.  John’s heart leapt for a moment before sinking into the pit of his stomach as Professor Holmes strode into the room, his coat whipping and snapping behind him.  Sinking into his seat, John stared down at his paper, pretending to write some notes.

“Oh, Sherlock!” Professor Eames exclaimed.  “What can I do for you?”

“I require John Watson,” Professor Holmes answered.

John grimaced.  This was the last thing he needed to happen right now.  And the choice of wording couldn’t have been worse.  Honestly, he was starting to sound like a typical Independent.

“Right now?” she clarified.

Professor Holmes made a face.  “Yes, Elizabeth.  Right now.”

“And what is the urgent urgency?  Why can’t he just find you after class?” she pressed.

“Human lives are at stake here.  I’m assuming that – for you – that is enough of a moral reason for me to acquire him,” Professor Holmes answered.

 _Acquire_.  John’s jaw set, and he gritted his teeth.

Professor Eames pressed her lips together.  “Very well,” she murmured, turning to face John.  With a tilt of her head, she dismissed him from class.

However, John didn’t pack his bag.  He instead rose from his seat and walked out into the hall with Professor Holmes close behind.  By now, he was fuming, and he had just what he wanted to say in mind.

“Alright, we have to-” Professor Holmes started to explain as he brushed by John.

“I’m not going,” John cut in.

Professor Holmes came to a halt and turned to face John.

“Whatever you need can either wait until I’m done with class or can be done by you and you alone,” he declared.

Tilting his head, Professor Holmes began to examine John closely, his eyes shifting as if he was reading a page of a book.  John stood tall and waited for the deductions to be over.  “You’re angry with me,” Professor Holmes finally stated.  “Is this about the Dependent Number again?  I told you I-”

“No, it’s not,” John snapped.  “It’s about you treating me like an object – just like every other Independent treats Dependents!  You come in and start speaking about ‘acquiring’ and ‘requiring’ me like I’m a microscope or calculator.”  He sucked in a deep breath in hopes of that calming him down, but the adrenaline and rage were now too well mixed, and he knew he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to.  “You demand my presence as if you’re my Independent, which we both know that you’re not.  I have my own thoughts and opinions on the matter, and I can’t afford to skip this lecture.  So before you start deciding my schedule for me, you might want to actually check that it’s alright with me first.  Good day!”

With that, John turned on his heels and returned to his seat.  He could hear the shocked whispers that went about the room.  Obviously, they all had the same thought: Professor Holmes wanted to claim him, and John turned him down.  It was just as well that they thought that, and he wasn’t about to take the time to correct them.  To turn down a teacher was a bold statement.  Perhaps if word got around, all the Independents would leave him alone.  What a blessing that would be.

Still, John was seething but – more so – he was upset.  Professor Holmes had been a breath of fresh air for him.  Honestly, he had thought that he wasn’t like the other Independents.  He genuinely had believed that Professor Holmes respected him and his intellect.  Now, though, he didn’t know what to think.  All he knew was that he had felt the knife twist deeper into him.  He had been let down.

Once class was finished, he packed up and headed back out to find Professor Holmes nowhere to be found.  He didn’t linger on it, instead opting to go outside the nearest door and walk across the grass to the street.  Just as he reached the pavement, a black car drove up next to him.  A gorgeous woman stepped out, typing away on her Blackberry.  “John Watson?” she inquired, not looking up.

“That’s me, yes.”

“Get in,” she ordered.

John took a step back.  “And if I refuse?” he inquired.

This time, she looked up from her mobile.  “Then I’ll use force,” she stated, her eyes boring holes into his flesh.  Independent for sure – he could feel it in his bones.

John frowned and slipped into the vehicle.  He couldn’t be sure she was bluffing, but he was far too curious as to what was going on.  Immediately upon entering, he began to note the amount of windows, how the locks worked, and that there was nothing in reach that he could use as a weapon besides the books in his backpack.

“Is there a point in asking where we’re headed?” he inquired, trying to sound indifferent.

“None at all,” the woman replied.

He remained silent for a moment.  “What about your name?”

“It’s… Anthea.”

Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her.  She had paused a moment in her speech, holding out the letter “s” for far too long as she hesitated.  Obviously, she had to think of a code name to go by.  “Not really, though.”

“No, not really.”  She was already sounding bored of the conversation.

John looked out the window and began to lose track of their way, what with how many turns they were taking.  It had to be the most indirect way to get wherever they were going.  Eventually, though, he began to see less and less people.  They turned down a deserted street and headed through a gated area to warehouses.  They stopped inside of one of these warehouses, and John immediately got out of the vehicle.

A man stood there, swinging an umbrella.  “Mr John Watson.  Pleasure,” he greeted.

“Wish I could say the same,” John answered.

“I hope you understand that these measures had to be taken in order to ensure that Sherlock Holmes was not aware of my presence.”

John straightened as he heard the name.  “Scared of Professor Holmes?” he taunted.

“Naturally not.  It just makes for an easier transition when he is unaware of my participation.  Now, young Mr Watson, what’s a Dependent like you doing with him?”

Frowning, John replied, “I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“And I think it is.”

John smirked.  “Unfortunately for you, your opinion doesn’t matter.  I don’t think it’s your business.  Therefore, you will not hear a word from me.  If you want to talk to Professor Holmes about it, feel free.”

“For a Dependent, you’re stubborn,” the man noted.  Bristling, John set his jaw and glared at him.  “Hit a sore subject there, did I?”  With that, he pulled out a notebook and began to flip through it.  “You took the I.D. test a total of six times, I see.  After you received your tattoo, you went to a therapist for a year for depression.  I am assuming that she didn’t help you much, did she?  Of course, that wasn’t a smart move by your parents, giving you a female Dependent therapist.  You could have done with a male Dependent a lot more.  I also notice that your sister, Harriet, was marked as an Independent.  I’m sure that did nothing but damage your ego further, am I correct?”

John clenched his hands into fists.  “What do you want?” he snarled.

“Information,” the man responded.

“About?”

He twirled his umbrella absentmindedly.  “About your intentions with Sherlock Holmes.”

“What’s it to you?” John pressed.

“I worry about him,” the man answered.  “You intend to become his Dependent then?”

John scoffed.  “I have no intention of the sort.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I told you to stop interacting with him outside of class?”

“I would mind very much,” John answered.  “And let me make this clear to you.  Just because I am a Dependent doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.  Just because you know Professor Holmes doesn’t mean to get to dictate his life behind his back.  And just because you can afford a fancy car and driver to take me to this location doesn’t mean I fear you.”  With that, he dropped his voice into a lower tone, trying to keep himself from yelling.  “I will do as I damn well please with my life, thank you very much.”

Blinking in surprise, the man started to laugh.  “Such a fighting spirit.  I can see why Sherlock took an interest in you… and why you see yourself as an Independent.”  He stopped laughing and looked John straight in the eyes.  “Be careful around Sherlock, though.  You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.  Because before you know it, you won’t see London anymore.  No.  Every street will become the front line.  Every person a potential enemy.  This city will become a battlefield, and Sherlock will ensure that your only ally is him.”

John remained silent for a moment, letting that sink in.  “Is that all?”

“For now,” the man stated before swinging his umbrella and turning to walk away.  “I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, John Watson.  Have a good day.”

With that, Anthea stepped forward.  “We’ll take you wherever you want to go,” she said.

John looked back at the car and remained silent for a moment.  “Take me to 221b Baker Street,” he declared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon for the late update.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time John arrived at Baker Street, he was enraged.  Instead of cooling down after the whole ordeal, he stewed in his anger.  His mind whirled and turned.  How had that man known so much about him?  There was only one reason he found John interesting, and that was Professor Sherlock Holmes.  Did Professor Holmes say something about him?  How much had he given away?  He had been stupid to trust Professor Holmes!  As soon as they arrived, he was out of the car and found the front door unlocked before heading up to Professor Holmes’s flat. When he got up the stairs, he found the door open and Professor Holmes sitting at a table in front of his laptop.

“Delete everything,” John snarled.  “Everything you created with my name attached to it.  Delete it all.”

Immediately, Professor Holmes’s looked up, tilted his head, and frowned.  “What happened?”

“I got picked up.  That’s what happened.  I got picked up and brought to this guy who knew all about my life.  Knew about things that no one dares to talk about anymore.  Threw them back into my face!  Which is why tomorrow, I am going in and declaring my Depending Number as stolen, and I will be getting registered under a new one.  So you better delete all the accounts that you have under my name and with my number before I do so,” John bit back.

Professor Holmes rose to his feet.  “You would let a murderer get away with their crimes just because someone reminded you of a bad time in your past?”

“It’s not like you even needed my number anyway!” John responded.  “Or do you really think I’m that daft?”

Blinking, Professor Holmes stared at John, gauging him.

“You said something about your brother already being called upon to look at the CCTV cameras, which means he’s in the government in some way, shape, or form.  But not only that, you made it sound like it was no issue for him to look up on the CCTV, which means he has to have higher authority in the government.  Well, if all of this is right then he can generate and give you a fake Dependent number, can’t he?  Might be a bit illegal, but I honestly don’t think that that would bother you at all.  So if you really need a freaking Dependent number, go to him and get one instead!” John yelled as he stalked across the floor.

Professor Holmes looked borderline impressed, although John doubted he would ever see him _impressed_.  This was probably as close as it was ever going to get.  “My brother and I aren’t on what you would call speaking terms,” he explained.

“Not my problem.”

Tilting his head, Professor Holmes stared John in the eyes.  “What did he say to you to make you this upset?” he pressed.

“That’s none of your business,” John snapped, clenching his hands into fists.

Professor Holmes replied, “It was something to do with you being a Dependent, wasn’t it?”

“I said it was none of your business!” John screamed.

“Sit. Down. Now!” Professor Holmes bellowed, his voice reverberating through the floorboards.

Immediately, John sat down, staring at him in shock.  Never did he actually think that Professor Holmes would yell at him.

“Is everything alright, Sherlock?” an older woman – Mrs Hudson, if John remembered correctly – inquired.

“Everything is fine,” Professor Holmes answered, never looking away from John.  Nodding, Mrs Hudson headed back downstairs.  It was only after they heard the door close that Professor Holmes spoke again.  “You sat down.”

John blinked as he heard this.  He sat down.  _He_ sat down.  “Oh, God,” he murmured as realisation and horror washed over him.  Without thinking, he had just blindly obeyed a command from an Independent.  It wasn’t as if Independents had special powers or anything.  They were human, just as Dependents were, which is why John never had an issue before in regards to ignoring a command.  Of course, most Independents were put off when they demanded something only for him to refuse, but it was a source of pride until now.  Why did he obey Professor Holmes?  “I… I sat down.”  Still shocked, he stared at Professor Holmes with a slacked jaw.

“Yes, you did.  You didn’t even think about it twice,” Professor Holmes continued as if nothing of importance had happened, looking over at him. “Now, tell me, John.  What harm would it do for you to accept your status as a Dependent?  What would it take away from you?”

Hesitating, John looked up at Professor Holmes as he tried to shake off the need to obey.  He had never heard such a powerful voice before.  One that penetrated straight to his core.  “Privileges,” he finally answered.

“Perceived privileges,” Professor Holmes corrected.  “The truth that no Independent wants you to know is that there are also a lot of societal norms and requirements that are placed on them.  To not have a Dependent by university is slowly becoming frowned upon.  To be rejected by a Dependent is one of the harshest blows an Independent could suffer.  Eventually, the tides will turn in the Dependent’s favour, and they’ll have power over Independents.  It might not happen in our lifetime, but it’s going to happen soon.”

John glared at Professor Holmes.  “I still am getting a new Dependent number,” he stated.  “I should have never handed it over to you anyway.  That was stupid of me.”

“You don’t trust me anymore.”

“I should have never trusted you to begin with,” John retorted.

Professor Holmes pulled back just a touch, something that John barely noted.  “Earlier, when he secluded you, what did my brother say to you?”

“Your brother, was it?” John inquired.  “No wonder why you two don’t get on anymore.”

Professor Holmes called out, “John.”

“I suffered from depression, alright?” John snapped, jumping to his feet.  He began to pace the room, needing to feel in control of his body once more.  “After I was declared as a Dependent.  They sent me to a therapist who did nothing but make me feel worse about it.  Eventually, I just stopped going because why should I?  Nothing was going to change the fact that I was a fucking Dependent.  All I could do was try to make the best out of it.”

“And when did you start dressing as an Independent?” Professor Holmes pressed.

John murmured, “I stole a shirt from a friend’s house when I was 16.  Then I saved up enough money to buy a few more.  No one checks nowadays to see if you have a tattoo, after all.  They all just assume that Dependents are too stupid to get their hands on an Independent shirt.”

“Someone at your school must have noticed.”

“I didn’t wear them to school,” John stated.  “I wore them out and about – to the mall or to the cinema or theatre or the park.  Once I came to university, though…  That was the first time I ever wore an Independent shirt to class, and you just saw right through it.”

Professor Holmes glanced at his laptop.  “I have all the information I need anyway.  I’ll cancel all accounts and wipe the server of your number.  It will be yours again.”

“But you know it,” John pointed out.  “Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

“17-496-8352,” Professor Holmes responded.

“How long did it take you to remember that?”

Smirking, Professor Holmes answered, “Two website applications.”

“Two?  You’re not as good as I thought then,” John teased.

Professor Holmes gave him a disapproving look.  “Now, do you want to hear about what I found?”

John hesitated.  MH had warned him away from Professor Holmes for whatever reason.  That woman at the crime scene had done so as well.  “Before you do, I want to know one thing.  Why don’t you have a Dependent?”

“I haven’t found anyone worth my time yet,” Professor Holmes stated defensively.

“Not so fun when a sore subject gets touched on for you, now is it?” John pointed out.  “You said so yourself that a rejection from a Dependent is the biggest slap in the face an Independent could suffer.  Were you talking from experience?”

Professor Holmes scowled.  “The case, John, is far more important that my previous love life.”

“Are you like me then?” John pressed.

“Like you?”

John nodded.  “I’ve never been with anyone in my life.”

Professor Holmes examined him for a long moment before giving one curt nod and heading back over to the laptop.  “Now, shall we?”

The case.  Now, John had the choice – continue working with Professor Holmes and everything that entailed, including John’s own developing emotions.  Or he could walk away here and now and go on with life.  Just attend classes as he had before.  Move on with life as he had planned before coming to university.  But there was something simply addicting about being by Professor Holmes’s side.  He felt acknowledged there.  Treated as an equal.

“Yes, we shall,” he finally stated.

Professor Holmes smirked before turning his laptop.  “After doing extensive research last night, I found only one profile that all the victims had in common.”

“Good!  Then go pick them up!” John replied.

“It’s fake,” Professor Holmes answered.

“Fake?”

He nodded.  “Fake name, fake address, fake everything.  They don’t exist except for online.”

“But they had to use a real Independent number.  The website checks the number to confirm information!”

“They must have gotten a fake number as well,” Professor Holmes murmured.

John stared at the screen.  Robert Jacobson didn’t exist, so who was behind the account?  “So now what do we do?”

“I still haven’t told you everything I found yet.  Come on.”  With that, he sprang to his feet and headed towards the door.

Without even thinking, John pursued.


	7. Chapter 7

“What else did you find?” John pressed as they clambered into a cab.

Professor Holmes muttered an address to the cabbie before leaning back into the seat.  “I think the question is: where are we going?”

“What else did you find?” John repeated, giving Professor Holmes a challenging glare.

Chuckling, he noted, “You really don’t like it when other people tell you what to say, do you?”

“I think we’ve more than established that fact.  Now, what else did you find?”

“A commonality between all of the victims and the fake account.  They all enjoyed drinking coffee,” Professor Holmes explained.

John rolled his eyes.  “Yes, that lowers it down.  Let’s just find a café and ask around if anyone has killed recently, why don’t we?”

“Not just _any_ café, John,” Professor Holmes cut in, giving him a sharp look.  “One specific café.  Embankment Café near the Thames.”

“And that’s where we’re going now,” John stated.

Professor Holmes nodded.  “Although I don’t have much hope for this lot.  After all, if a regular comes in repeatedly with murder victims, you would think someone would have caught on by now.  Then again, people are stupid.”

“Unless the killer works there,” John thought aloud.

Eyes widening, Professor Holmes gasped out, “Oh…  Oh!  Yes, that makes complete sense now!  Oh, that is brilliant.  Absolutely brilliant.  Wait, is it brilliant?  Why is it brilliant?”  A puzzled look befell Professor Holmes’s features once more.

John frowned.  “It’s brilliant because the person is luring them to his place of work-” he started to explain.

“But they weren’t killed there,” Professor Holmes stated.

“They didn’t have to be.  Get their information there, and-”

Waving off his comment, Professor Holmes replied, “You get enough information from the websites to find where they work and live.  Even mobile numbers.  No, there’s still a missing link.  Something hasn’t quite fallen into place yet.”

“Then why are we going?” John inquired.

Professor Holmes smirked.  “To see if the piece is there.”

"And I take it the police are meeting us there?" John clarified.

Scoffing, Professor Holmes shook his head.  “They know nothing about this.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re incompetent.  Almost entirely incompetent.  In order to solve cases, they come to me.  Why would I go back to them once I’m finally onto something?”

 “To keep them involved and updated?” John suggested.

Professor Holmes responded, “That is by far the most inane idea to ever come out of your mouth.  Do me a favour – stop talking and start thinking.”

John scowled.  He would see if Professor Holmes had a point in not calling New Scotland Yard.  If he didn’t, John would contact them himself.  “Don’t tell me what to do.  You’re-”

“-not my Independent,” both Professor Holmes and John stated at the same time.  “Yes, John, I know.  However, do yourself a favour – even when you get an Independent, don’t let them tell you what to do.”

“Oh, I don’t plan to,” John responded.  “And I think you mean ‘even if.’”

“Do I?” Professor Holmes taunted, glancing over at John.

John growled, “Yes, you do.”

Clearly amused, Professor Holmes hummed and glanced out the window.  They arrived soon after.  “Now, I need you to go inside and get a table for two.”

“What will you be doing?”

“Waiting in the cab until it’s safe for me to enter as a separate customer,” Professor Holmes answered matter-of-factly.

John blinked.  “You mean to tell me I’m getting a table for two to sit by myself at?”

“Oh, no.  You won’t be sitting by yourself.  Someone should be coming to sit with you.”

“Am I going on a date with the murderer?” John exclaimed incredulously, everything clicking together at the same time.

Smiling, Professor Holmes replied, “Yes.  Isn’t it exciting?”

“Not exactly the word I would choose for it, but it’s something…” John mumbled before looking at the building.  “At least go around the block a few times before coming in.  And if I die, I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life.”  With that, he emerged form the vehicle and headed inside.

John requested a table for two, saying that his date would probably be there soon.  He then sat down and waited.  Minutes ticked by, and Professor Holmes eventually entered and sat at another table.  Both of them pretended not to know the other as they kept tabs on the door.  Once an hour passed, John could feel the sympathy pouring from his server as he continued to wait.

Finally, he said, “I suppose my date isn’t coming.”

“This happens a lot here, you know,” she tried to console.  “It’s like we’re cursed or something.”

Tilting his head, John pressed, “What do you mean?”

“I mean way too many people get stood up here,” she replied.  “They come to meet someone – for example, someone they met online – that’s the one that happens most often, you know – and that person never comes.  There’s so many of them that it’s sometimes hard to keep track.  Sooner or later, young couples are going to hear the rumours and stop coming here.  But don’t you worry.  You’re young and attractive.  I’m sure you’ll have someone else on the line before you even know it!”

John nodded and rose to his feet.  “Thank you.  I feel a lot better,” he lied before paying the check and heading out onto the street.

Not even a minute later, Professor Holmes was behind him.  “Just like I thought.”

“Like you thought?” John inquired.  “What do you mean?”

“They’re smart.  You see, they set up a series of dates there – not with just one Dependent, but with several of them.  That way, the victims are lost in the sea of faces.  After all, a waitress is more likely to remember someone who was stood up – pitying them or whatever it is idiots do – than someone who enjoyed their tea with their date.  Which means that they must only go on dates with their victims.  Oh, these people are so very clever.  Now, to just find them…”

John frowned.  “Any plans?”

“Four different ones, but I’m going to need more data.”  He looked back at John.  “I will see you tomorrow.”  With that, he went dashing off, leaving John behind.

Despite himself, John smiled as he watched Professor Holmes sprint off.  He obviously had something in mind.  Tomorrow – in class –

“Oh shit,” John murmured, remembering all the homework that he had yet to complete.  “Shit, shit, shit!”  He turned the opposite way and went running towards the closest underground.

Somehow, Professor Holmes had swept him into an entirely new world without him even realizing it.  He felt happy at Professor Holmes’s side, and he was starting to let things – important things – go.  After all, his academics had always come first before.  What was it about Professor Holmes that made John forget himself?  It was nothing good.  Nothing good at all.  John was starting to see himself always there – always running around with Professor Holmes, solving crimes to bring justice to the victims.  Hell, he might even want to be claimed someday, and that scared him more than anything else in the world. 


	8. Chapter 8

A week had come and gone faster than John thought possible, but he still hadn’t gotten his Dependent number changed.  Although he tried to convince himself it was because he just didn’t have the time, he knew better.  After all, he had decided to continue this – whatever it was – despite the clear warning not to.  There was something about Professor Holmes that pulled him in.  Interested him.  And in the short time that they had been working together, John had made 221b his second home.  Mrs Hudson enjoyed having him round for a cuppa, and he got to hear stories about Professor Holmes that he wouldn’t have heard any other place in the world.

“So then,” she murmured, pouring him some more tea, “I pulled out these ginormous antlers and put them on his head!  We had made a deal, you know.  If I made him those atrocious things, he would wear them on Christmas Eve and play a tune on his violin.  You know he plays the violin, correct?”

John smiled and nodded.  “Yes, ma’am.  I’ve heard him play before.”

She grinned.  “Anyway, it took some convincing, but I got him to put them on and play _Silent_ _Night_.  Oh, I wish I had a photograph of it!”

“Some things are better left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson,” Professor Holmes stated as he walked in.

Mrs Hudson laughed.  “Sherlock, so nice of you to pop in.  You know, I see John more nowadays than I do you!”

“There are cases to be solved,” Professor Holmes responded before giving John a look.

“Well, thank you, Mrs Hudson, for the tea, but I better get upstairs,” he murmured before setting his mug down on the table.

She smiled.  “Of course, John, see you soon.”

He nodded and turned towards the door, heading up after Professor Holmes.  “Oh, I forgot my gloves!  I’ll be up in a second,” he said before returning.

Just as he got to the doorway, he looked in to see Mrs Hudson’s back to him.  Her tattoo was entirely filled in with black ink.  Shocked, he stood there for a moment before stepping back and hiding.  He couldn’t remember ever seeing her back before.  How had he not noticed that until now?  And the ink.  When an Independent died, usually the Dependent had a dove tattooed above the box and ivy branching down both sides.  He had heard rumours of Dependents who never wanted to remember their Independent again, thus blotting out the existence altogether with black ink.  But he never thought it was true.  After all, he had never met someone who had that before.  He wondered what on Earth that person had done to Mrs Hudson for her to react in such a way.

“Mrs Hudson!” he called out, pretending he was just arriving there.

She turned around quickly.  “Yes, dear?”

“I forgot my gloves,” he said, appearing in the doorway.

“Oh, yes.  They’re right on the table,” she noted with a faint smile.

Heading over, John quickly picked them up.  “Thanks again for your hospitality,” he murmured before scurrying back up the stairs.

“That took you longer than required,” Professor Holmes noted as John came in.  “What were you doing down there?”

John hesitated for a moment.  “I… well… Mrs Hudson…”

“You saw her back,” he stated, looking up at John.  “The first you’ve ever seen, correct?”

“I just thought it was a myth,” he murmured honestly.  “I didn’t think that – was he really that bad?”

Professor Holmes hummed.  “She had me ensure his execution.”

John was shocked by the news, and he stared at Professor Holmes for a long moment before finally bobbing his head in response.  “I see,” he whispered.

After a long moment, Professor Holmes rose to his feet and began to examine John.  “You haven’t been sleeping well,” he noted.

“N-no, I haven’t,” John replied.  “Thanks to you, I have to worry about a murderer coming after me.”

He stared at John a bit longer.  “No, it’s not that,” he stated.  John swallowed when he heard that.  “You’ve been losing sleep over something mental.  You’re thinking too much.  And here I thought I would never say that to another human being in my life.”

“It’s none of your business.  I just have a lot on my plate right now.  Besides, you can’t just expect me to go running off with you any second of the day.  I have my studies to worry over.  I have other classes, other priorities, and other responsibilities.  Unlike you, I actually need to eat!” he snapped.

Scoffing, Professor Holmes replied, “You’re not going to side track me as you’re wont to do.”  John merely blinked in response.  “But since you’re so adamant about ensuring that the conversation is steered in a new direction, I can only assume it has something to do with your status as a Dependent.  Still bothering you?”

“It’s not exactly something someone gets over overnight.”

“No, but it has been a week,” Professor Holmes pointed out.

John laughed.  “You have high regards of me.”

“You earned them,” Professor Holmes stated.  John knew that that would be the highest praise he could ever receive.  “Have you changed your Dependent number?”

Biting his tongue, John glared at the wall next to him as if it had done something wrong.  “No.”

Professor Holmes smiled when he heard that.  “You didn’t.  Now, that is interesting.  Why not?”

“I don’t have the time.”

“We both know that’s not quite true.”  With that, Professor Holmes stepped forward.  “How much sleep have you gotten lately?”

“You’re the genius.  You tell me,” John snapped.

After a few minutes, Professor Holmes said, “You’ve gotten an average of three to four hours of sleep per night.”

“How did you-?” John began.

“Your symptoms told me so.  At this rate, though, you’re going to crash soon.  You require the sleep,” Professor Holmes stated.  He then shoved John down onto the sofa.  “Get comfortable.”

“But what about the case?”

Waving a hand, he replied, “You would have just been a sounding board, and I still have my skull to talk to.  Right now, though, you require rest in order to be of any use to me, so you better get started.”

“Ever thought about recording one of those relaxing tapes?” John teased before lying down on the sofa.  He felt so small on it, his feet coming nowhere close to touching the other end.  Grabbing one of the pillows, he dragged it underneath his head.  “You just have such a way with words, and you’re so soothing.”

Professor Holmes shot him a look.  “Eyes closed.”

Amused, John laughed and did as he was told.  Once they were closed, he began to listen to the even pace of Professor Holmes’s feet.  One… two… one… two.. one… two… one…  His breathing slowly to match each step.

“John, listen to me,” Professor Holmes suddenly said.

Humming in acknowledgement, John stirred slightly before feeling something heavy drape across him.

“Keep your eyes closed.  Don’t move.”  John was more than happy to follow those orders.  “Listen to my voice.  Your body is getting heavier.  Do you feel that?  You’re melting into the sofa and relaxing now.”  Groaning, John began to relax, sinking further into the sofa.  “You’re going to sleep deeply without any fears.  If any fear comes to you, remember that I am here, and give them to me, alright?  I will take care of them while you sleep.”

By now, John was too tired to process the words, but he understood the general meaning.  This vaguely reminded him of a hypnotist who came to his college a couple years ago.  He had watched others be hypnotised, but at the time, he was far too stubborn to allow anyone else control over his body. But right now, it just felt so soothing.  So safe.

“What fears do you want to let go of?” Professor Holmes pressed.

John answered, “I’m scared to let anyone close.”

“Why?”

“Because they probably will either try to take advantage of me or pity me, and I hate that.  Most of my friends abandoned me after I became a Dependent,” he explained, his words starting to slur slightly.

Professor Holmes murmured in his deep, baritone voice, “Alright, I’m taking that fear from you now.  What else?”

“I don’t want to live my life alone.  I just pretend I do because I’m scared of being claimed.”

There was a long pause before once more Professor Holmes said, “You have no reason to be afraid of that anymore.  Anything else?”

“I don’t want you to leave me, too,” John whispered, his lips trembling at the thought.

“I won’t, John,” Professor Holmes promised.  “You don’t need to fear that.”

John hummed softly before nodding off, unable to make out the rest of Professor Holmes’s words.  He slept deeply for what felt like the first time in years.  When he woke up, he found himself underneath Professor Holmes’s coat and in an empty flat.  He sat up and stretched, cracking his back.  When had he even fallen asleep?  He could remember telling Professor Holmes that he needed to make a tape of some sort.  But then… nothing.  Even so, he had a strange feeling.  Like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

It was then that he saw the note on the table.

_Takeaway is in the fridge next to the head.  Don’t touch the head.  Or the spaghetti.  I’m at the morgue. –SH_

Looking at the clock, John read that it was three in the morning.  “Fuck!” he exclaimed to himself.  He had slept for eleven hours straight.  Quietly, he headed over to the fridge and located his takeaway just where Professor Holmes said it would be.  He should have known that he wasn’t joking about the head.  Once he blitzed his food in the microwave, he sat down at the table and munched slowly, still sleepy.  The flat was so quiet without Professor Holmes there.  No mumbling or exclamations or violin playing.  Honestly, it was more so eerie than relaxing.

“Relax,” John mumbled to himself aloud, trying to figure out why that word stuck a chord with him.  He took another bite and felt a memory just at the fringes of his mind, not daring to come into full view.

Finishing up his meal, he pitched the container into the bin.  The Tube wouldn’t be running for another couple of hours, so he plopped down onto the sofa again, pulling up Professor Holmes’s coat over him once more.  Just as he was starting to drift back off to bed, he heard footsteps on the stairs.  John tried to force himself to get up only for sleep to keep him firmly in its clutches.  A soft chuckle escaped Professor Holmes’s lips, and John wondered what on Earth he could be laughing at.

The sofa next to his feet dipped down with a weight.  John groaned before kicking out instinctively, used to Harry bothering him.  His feet were caught by large, warm hands, and he felt two thumbs press into the arch of his feet.  Moaning, John went limp and hummed happily.  Somehow, he could see himself getting used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating last week. Finals and life caught up with me, and I had no time to write. I hope it was worth the wait...


	9. Chapter 9

“So, I was wondering if-” a girl started to inquire.

“I’m not interested,” John snapped without even looking over.  Honestly, he just needed to stop arriving early to Professor Holmes’s class in order to avoid these un-pleasantries.

She shied away a bit, obviously rebuked by his sudden statement.  Most Independents were, after all.  Looking up, he found that it was another Dependent, one of the few other ones in the class.  Mandy… Mindy… M…y.  Something close to that.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” he murmured.  “I thought you were an Independent trying to claim me.  That’s why I snapped.  What can I do for you?”

Flushing, she began to shift her weight back and forth.  “Um… well, I was just wondering about something,” she murmured before leaning in closer to him.  “H-how exactly did you befriend Professor Holmes?”

John was surprised, and he blinked a few times, processing the question.  “Oh!  Um, well, I don’t know if I would consider us friends.”

She chewed on her lower lip.  “S-so then you two are definitely going to…?”

“Oh, God, no!” John exclaimed, seeing where she was going with this.  He then glanced around and lowered his voice.  “No.  No, it’s not like that.  We’re not… I just…”  Pausing, he stared her in the eyes and finally confessed, “I don’t really know what it is, but it’s definitely _not_ that.”

“What’s definitely not that?” Professor Holmes inquired.

Eyes widening, John quickly replied, “We were just discussing the homework last night.  She thought that the murderer might be a Dependent because of the Dependent’s disappearance directly after her Independent’s murder, but I am leaning more towards kidnapping due to the fact that she took nothing with her and the house was practically torn apart in the struggle.”

Professor Holmes stared at John for a bit before humming.  “You’re getting better at lying, but you’re not good enough to trick me.”

“Oh, Molly!” John blurted out, his brain finally coming up with her name.

Surprised, Molly inquired, “Yes?”

“D-do you want to study with me sometime?  I think we would make a dangerous duo,” he quickly suggested, covering up his blunder.

She smiled.  “I think that sounds brilliant.  Do you want my number?”

“Sure!” John replied before pulling out his mobile.

“You’re not going to have time to study together,” Professor Holmes suddenly snapped.

John stared at him.  “Pardon?” he inquired civilly, his tone barely giving off the hint of disaster that could come from this conversation.

“We have a murder to solve, John.  You’re not going to have time to get together with Miss Hooper here to study,” Professor Holmes explained.

Blinking several times, John sucked in a few deep breaths.  “I think, Professor, you will find that I have time to do whatever I want to.  Besides, the semester is still months long, and we’ll definitely solve that murder before the semester is over.”

Professor Holmes pressed his lips together.  “There will be other murders to solve.”

“Am I to go on every investigation with you?” John inquired sharply.

“Yes.”

The answer took him by such surprise that he had to sit there for a while.  Professor Holmes was expecting for him to stay by his side.  Apparently, he, too, was getting comfortable, and his sudden possessiveness of John was a distinct trait of an Independent who wanted to claim a Dependent.  Everything was suddenly becoming far more complicated than he thought it ever would.

Rising to his feet, John murmured, “We need to talk.  Now.”

Professor Holmes hummed and followed John out of the room, leaving the bewildered class behind.  John was sure that – by now – everyone was making bets on when Professor Holmes would finally have John claimed.  It irritated him to no end.

Turning into Professor Holmes’ office, John asked, “What was that?”

“What was what?” Professor Holmes responded.

“That, just now.  In the lecture hall.  You might have noticed – seeing as how you are the only reason I’m wearing Dependent shirts – that my tattoo is still empty.  That means you are most definitely not my Independent, and even if you were, you still wouldn’t have such an influence over my schedule.”

Professor Holmes frowned as he heard that.  “Our work-”

“ _Your_ work!” John corrected.  “Your work that you dragged me into doing.”

Scoffing, Professor Holmes replied, “Please!  You came running at the mere offer of going to a crime scene with me.  I would hardly call that dragging.”

John pressed his lips together.  “And law states that – since you are my professor – you aren’t even allowed to claim me until the semester is over!”

“Laws can be rewritten.  Looped through.  I have a brother in government, and I could easily-”  Abruptly, Professor Holmes cut himself off.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything.  “So then…” John finally started to say, breaking the silence, “… you _do_ want something to happen here?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you just implied it really loudly,” John responded.

Professor Holmes made a face.  “We talked before about this.  Why would I even want you as a Dependent?”

“Who cares about the ‘why’ of the situation when it exists?”

“As it happens, I do.  And you do, too, or you wouldn’t be taking my course,” Professor Holmes pointed out.

Laughing, John shook his head as he tried to wrap his mind around what was going on.  “Fine.  Maybe because I’m not dependent on you.  We coordinate and cooperate with each other, but I can easily live my own life without you having to hold my hand every step of the way.  Perhaps it’s because I think for myself – I question things – I question _you_.  I challenge you in a way that most others have never done before.”

Professor Holmes stared out of the window as John spoke.  “Would you even consider allowing yourself to be claimed by me?”

John froze as he heard that.  All his life, he just wanted to be Independent, and now he was facing one of the largest, life-changing moments that he would ever have.  Carefully, he answered, “I could see myself happy by your side as your equal.  But that’s what we would have to be.  Equals.  And as it stands, with me being your student, I don’t think that we can be equals yet.  You have already demonstrated your belief that you hold certain rights over me, and I would rebel against you if you tried to assert them.  In that way, I don’t know if we’re compatible.  I don’t really know if I’m compatible with any Independent, to be honest.”

A minute passed as the two of them stood there in silence.  “Once you had my family crest and initials on your back, I think I wouldn’t be so… demanding.”

Raising an eyebrow, John replied, “That’s not good enough.  You mustn’t be so demanding if you want even the slightest chance of claiming me.”

“So there is a chance?”

John couldn’t believe he was saying this.  “I believe so, yes.  But it’s not as if I’m going to go out tonight to get my tattoo filled.  Your family crest and initials will have to wait until we’re both far more certain than we are right now.  And once I’m done with your course.”

“We’ll just have to disagree on the latter,” Professor Holmes stated.  “However, you would consider us…”

“Experimenting,” John filled in.  “That’s what we’re doing.  No promises and no strings attached.  If either of us thinks it’s not going to work out, we have a right to just step away from the relationship altogether.”

Professor Holmes hummed thoughtfully.  “And how long are you planning to experiment?”

“Until we both are fairly certain this is either what we want or don’t want out of life,” John stated.  “Deal?”

“No,” Professor Holmes stated.  John balked at him.  “The end of the semester is the deadline.  I will not tolerate waiting for an indefinite amount of time.  By then, you will either want to be claimed or not.  Choose wisely.”

John nodded absentmindedly.  The end of the semester was only a couple months away if he didn’t include the variety of holidays they received.  Swallowing hard, he shuffled his feet back and forth before saying, “Very well.  By the end of the semester, you will have your answer.  Until then, though, I don’t want this situation referenced or alluded to, and you have to prove to me that you aren’t going to turn into a controlling arsehole the moment I have your mark on my back.”

“Fine,” Professor Holmes responded.  “And in return, outside of the classroom, I want you to call me ‘Sherlock,’ do you understand?”

Barely smiling, John nodded.  “Yes.”

Professor – Sherlock gave a brief nod.  “You’re late for class,” he finally stated.

John laughed.  “ _You_ are the reason I am late for class!”

“Almost a good excuse,” Sherlock teased, glancing back at John.  “But not quite.  If I get back to the lecture hall before you do, I’m locking you out and not letting you in.”

For a moment, John almost said, “You wouldn’t,” but he knew very well that Sherlock would if only to prove a point.  He quickly skirted out of the room and headed back to the lecture hall.  His step felt a bit lighter, as if he was on the verge of skipping, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.  Sherlock wanted him.  He wanted to claim John for his own, and that actually made John feel special instead of degraded, which had always been his previous perception of an Independent-Dependent relationship.

Once back in the classroom, John slipped into his seat and opened up his notebook.  Everything was winding up better than he expected, and if Sherlock could honestly prove to him that they would make a good pair then he supposed he might not have an issue being claimed.  If he was treated as an equal then there was nothing to be embarrassed about.  That was how it should be, after all.

Besides, it was Sherlock who helped him understand that being a Dependent wasn’t bad.  In fact, there were plenty of positive aspects and personality traits to being one that society just liked to glance over and shove under the rug.  It was at Sherlock’s side that John was finally discovering himself and finding his own pace in the world.  Why should he give that up if he was happy there?  Why should he let wrongful preconceptions annoy him and ruin his life?

Furthermore, humans were meant to be pack animals.  Studies showed that physical contact could raise one’s spirits.  People who lived alone for most of their lives generally died before those who don’t.  Isolating himself was going against his very nature as a human being.  He deserved to be happy.  He had earned that right, and he was going to see if he could have that.

John sucked in a deep breath and looked up at Sherlock as he strolled into the room, pretending that nothing had happened at all.  He pulled up the first screen, which consisted of a crime scene picture of a bloodied man in a back alleyway.  As he spoke, John wrote down careful notes when a thought struck him out of the blue, as if a puzzle piece was finally clicking into place.  The thing that had been bothering him finally made sense.

“Professor,” he cut in.

Sherlock looked at him expectantly.

“You said that it was a duo – an Independent and a Dependent – who were doing the murders.  One of them lured the people to a specific café, but then we don’t know what they did after that, right?” John pointed out.

Some bloke towards the back called out, “What the fuck are you talking about, mate?  He didn’t say anything about there being two killers.”

“Shut up,” Sherlock snapped, his eyes never leaving John.

“You thought that they went on a date with someone, but that doesn’t make any sense.  After all, you said yourself that the photos on those sites were fake, so how would the victims even recognize them as their date?  But what if they are regulars at that café – a cute couple who comes in all the time – and they lure out the victims in order to observe them from a close distance and decide whom they should murder?  And the workers wouldn’t think anything of it because they’re there all the time, not just when the victims are!”

“Class dismissed!” Sherlock shouted before grabbing his coat and heading towards the door.  “John, let’s go!”

 “Okay!”  John sprang up and began to pack up his bag.

“John, now!” Sherlock exclaimed, his voice further away than before.

Groaning, John grabbed his notebook and backpack, shoving it in as he hurried out of the room.


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock arrived at the café with John in tow only to find out that it was closed that day.  For about an hour, he paced outside of it, trying to figure out what he should do.  John wound up sitting around doing his homework for that time.  Finally, Sherlock stopped and looked back at him.

“John,” he called out.

“What is it?” John inquired, looking up.

“Have you ever worked at a café?”

John nodded.  “Yeah, why?”

“Do they usually keep records of their regulars?” he inquired.

“Um… well, some places have a wall where they post photos of their regulars,” John advised.

Sherlock gazed at the door.  “We’re breaking in,” he stated.

“What?”

“Come on.”

With that, Sherlock headed around to the back.  John sighed but followed nonetheless, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he rounded the corner.  Sherlock had already pried open a window and slipped inside before opening the side door for John.  Once they were in, they headed to the main area.

“Nothing,” Sherlock snarled as he looked around the room.

John looked back.  “There might be something in the kitchen,” he said.  “A cheat sheet for new employees.”

Without a word, Sherlock rushed back into the kitchen.  “Ah ha!” he called out, and John opened the door to see him over at a board.  “Let’s see here.  Let’s see.”

Walking over, John looked over the photos as well, immediately disregarding the ones with only one person in them.  One was a mother and son.  Another was a pair of Dependents – obviously best friends.

“Found it,” Sherlock murmured before pulling off a picture.

John looked over and found him holding a photo of two women.  “Seriously?”

“Definitely,” Sherlock stated before flipping it over.  “Mrs Emma and Rachel Stevenson.”

“Are you sure?” John pressed, still unable to believe it.  These two women were young, attractive, and so friendly-looking.  Honestly, they looked like they would be people who would be actively against harming others.  He couldn’t picture them brutally murdering these Dependents in such a fashion.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  “Am I sure?”

“S-sorry.  I just… I don’t see it,” John replied.

“You will,” Sherlock stated before putting the photo back up where it belonged.  “Come on.  We better go.”

John nodded.  “Go where?”

“I’ve solved the case,” Sherlock stated.  “Now, it’s time for the Yard to do their job.”

“So what?  You’re just going to go to NSY and give them names and let them try to put everything together themselves?” John pressed.

Leaving through the back, Sherlock replied, “Of course not.  I will be there when they bring the pair in and interrogate them.  And also when they finally find the evidence they need to support what I know.  If I just gave them names, they would still be entirely inept.”

John tried not to laugh.  “Thank God you’re so merciful to them,” he teased.

“Yes.  They owe me,” he stated matter-of-factly.  “They don’t know how lucky they are.”

“Should I come with you?” John inquired.  “Or should I just head back home and see you in class?”

Sherlock opened up the cab door.  “Don’t be stupid,” he remarked.

John smiled and slipped inside.  “So why them?” he inquired, looking over at Sherlock.  “Why do you think it’s them?”

“No eye crinkles,” Sherlock answered.

“I beg your pardon?” John replied.

Sherlock looked over at him and smiled.  “Look at my eyes.”  John looked up at them.  “Do you notice any wrinkles?”  Shaking his head, John waited for an explanation.  “That’s how you know it’s a fake smile.  Real joy causes for the skin around your eyes to crinkle.  In every single one of those photos, there were no crinkles, because who actually experiences joy when their photo is taken?  All of them except for that one.  And only by one of the women in the photo.  She was experiencing true joy by being in that café.”

“That doesn’t mean that–” John started to say.

“She had just found her next victim,” Sherlock stated.

Blinking, John balked at him.  “How do you know that?”

“Because it happened to be taken on the day before the second murder,” Sherlock responded.  “Time stamp on the top, right-hand corner proved that.”

John replied, “Still!  You can’t just jump to conclusions like that.”

“ _You_ can’t,” Sherlock corrected.  “My mind, however, is different from yours.  Vastly different.”

John stared at him before looking out of the window.  He watched as he passed everyone else by.  Eventually, they made it back to New Scotland Yard, but he didn’t get out of the cab.  “I think I should probably return home.”

“John, come,” Sherlock stated before getting out of the cab.  “I’ll secure an interrogation room for you to do your homework in.”

Hesitating, John looked at him.  “I’m not stupid,” he declared, still irritated from their previous conversation.

“I never meant to insinuate that,” Sherlock responded.  “By all means, you are not an idiot, but you are no genius.  We both know that.”  John pressed his lips together, causing Sherlock to sigh.  “John, I want you as my Dependent.  Trust me when I say that I don’t want just anyone.”

John was satisfied with that, knowing it was as good as an apology.  “Fine,” he finally murmured before getting out.  “But I want my interrogation room.  I really can’t let my grades drop because I’m running around with you.”

“If you want, I could email your professors and explain what is going on,” Sherlock answered as they entered NSY headquarters.   “I’m sure my colleagues would understand your hands-on internship and training.”

Laughing, John replied, “Is that what this is?”

“It’s always been this,” Sherlock answered as he opened the door for John.  “What came of it was entirely unintentional.”

John smiled.  “Well, it’s good to know that I wasn’t duped into this.”

“Or if you were, I’m not about to admit to it,” Sherlock jested.

This caused John to hesitate a moment before heading inside.  Once they made it to Lestrade’s office, Sherlock and Lestrade exchanged some words while John waited outside.  Lestrade offered John his office to work in as they followed up the lead, which John was grateful for.  Spreading out on Lestrade’s desk, John went to work as Sherlock and Lestrade headed off.

Time ticked by slowly.  Suddenly, John looked up and out through the glass wall at everyone bustling about.  Heart skipping a beat, John allowed a thought to emerge to the forefront of his mind.  This could be his life.  Not in the sense of if he was choosing, but that he could see himself living this life.  Frequent visits to see Lestrade and doing his work at New Scotland Yard.  Sherlock always by his side as they run around London together.  Catching criminals and always living in the present.  Never knowing what the next minute might bring.

John sat back and soaked this all in.  Since meeting Sherlock Holmes, his life had improved tenfold easily.  Even as a Dependent.  John knew he wasn’t as depressed as he used to be.  In fact, he was even more confident in himself, even when others knew he was a Dependent.  Sherlock seemed to bring out the best in him.  And, although he wouldn’t say he brought out the best in Sherlock, he definitely felt that he was what Sherlock needed.  Someone who would push back.  Someone who would challenge him.

But then there was the display.  Since John was young, he had always been fearful of being displayed.  It was a rite of passage, he knew, but being fucked in front of other people had never appealed to him.  He doubted that Sherlock would give a public display, but who would be present for the private one?  It had to be at least two people, and Sherlock didn’t seem to like his brother enough.  Perhaps Lestrade would be one then?  John didn’t think he would mind that as much – a Dependent there.  A Dependent who would understand.  Oh, God, if Mrs Hudson was there, though, John never would be able to live it down.

Even so, Sherlock would probably take John’s opinion into consideration.  Hell, Sherlock probably wouldn’t care enough about it and let John make all of the decisions.  But he didn’t have to worry about it right now.  He was still just toying with the idea of Sherlock claiming him.

“John,” Sherlock called out as he ripped open the door.  “They’ve separated the Dependent from the Independent.  Come with me.”

John got up and followed him out.  “Where are we going?”

“To listen in.”  Sherlock brought him into an adjoining room to one of the women.  “She’s the Dependent.  Emma Stevenson.”

Looking at her, John could see how anxious she was.  She was folded in on herself and pushed away from the table.  Wringing her hands, she refused to make eye contact with anyone in the room – not even her own reflection.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s painful,” John murmured.  “She’s so blatantly lying.  Does she actually think they’ll believe her?”

Sherlock chuckled.  “Of course she does,” he answered.  “But until they make her feel safe, she’s not going to open up.  But I guarantee you that she wanted nothing to do with this.  Her Independent is probably threatening her.”

John frowned as he heard that.  “I can’t even imagine.  An Independent is supposed to be the one person you can depend on no matter what.  To find that person to be the source of fear and agony…”

“I would never do that to you,” Sherlock suddenly cut in.

“I didn’t think you would,” John replied.

Sherlock hummed.  “I just thought that I should state it.”

“And even if you tried it, you must know that I wouldn’t tolerate it.”

Chuckling, Sherlock nodded.  “That’s why it could only be you.”

“I still haven’t said that I would,” John pointed out.

“You still haven’t said that you wouldn’t either.”

John said nothing in reply, instead opting to pay attention to the interrogation.  Her body language had changed, and she was opening up far more now.  Obviously, Donovan was getting her to relax.  She eventually began to explain that she couldn’t say anything.  If her Independent found out about it, she would be punished severely.  Donovan soothed her, explaining that if she knew about it that they would keep her safe.  Her Independent would go to jail for the rest of her life, but she could hide behind the Dependent laws recently enacted.

“She’s going to confess now,” Sherlock whispered.

Sure enough, Emma began to explain everything.  After being claimed for a month, she began to see something different in her Independent.  She began to exert her power over Emma, and she started to resent Dependents who refused to submit to their “natural state.”

“Relax,” Sherlock said, touching John’s shoulder.  John hadn’t realized just how tense he had gotten until then.

 _Relax_.

Relaxing, John leaned into the touch slightly.  “It just irks me to hear that.  We’re not doormats!”

Sherlock said nothing in reply as Emma continued with her explanation.  At first, she thought that her Independent would just help Dependents find an Independent, almost like a matchmaker.  She thought they might open up more to Emma since they were both Dependents, but most who weren’t claimed had no interest.  That’s when she started to get angry.  She began to lash out at Emma, who started to fear her more.  That’s when it began to morph into something dangerous.  Before she knew it, it was either them or her, and she wasn’t about to die for strangers.  She just lured the Dependents out somewhere for Rachel to kill.

“We’re done here,” Sherlock stated before pulling John out of the room.

Staggering behind him, John looked at Sherlock, watching his coat flutter behind him with each assured step.  He paused a moment.  Even behind him, John still felt like an equal.  Sherlock wasn’t leading him.  He trusted him to have his back.  And John knew that he could trust Sherlock to have his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! I moved to London, and I've been settling in. Been super busy. Here you are!

John Watson slipped into New Scotland Yard and slunk back to DI Lestrade’s office.  Lestrade looked up in surprise.  “Oh, John!  You looked concerned.  What’s wrong?”

Closing the door, John answered, “I’ve been working on and off with Sherlock for the last semester, and I… I think I do actually want to be his Dependent.”

“And you’re worried about the display,” Lestrade filled in.

John nodded.  “Terrified of it, actually.  Every time I think about it, my stomach tightens and coils, and I can hardly eat anything.”

“Anxiety,” Lestrade corrected.  “And you came here looking for advice.”

“Yeah.”

Rising to his feet, Lestrade shrugged on his coat.  “Come on then.  Let’s get some tea.”

John quietly followed him out of the building and into the closest tea shop they could find.  Once they had a kettle and two mugs, they found a booth in the back corner.  John drank slowly, waiting for Lestrade to start the conversation.  When he finished his first mug, he started to pour another.  “So _do_ you have any advice?” he finally pressed.

“Yes,” Lestrade replied.  “Fortunately for you, I remembered what Sherlock was like before you come into his life.  He was more despondent.  Less tolerating.  Less tolerable, actually.”  He smiled at John.  “But then you came into his life, and he’s changed.  Not entirely.  He’ll still say you’re not a complete idiot when he actually means that you’ve done a good job.  I mean, he just cannot bear to bring himself to compliment someone.  But I would say that he’s better, and I definitely know that that’s because of you.”

Flushing from the praise, John nodded and smiled.  “Thank you…”

“I also happen to have seen how much you’ve changed since meeting Sherlock.  When we first met, you didn’t smile as brightly.  You were standoffish.  And you balked at the fact that I was also a Dependent because you interpreted it as a bad thing.”

“Yeah.  Sorry about that.”

Lestrade waved off the apology.  “No need to worry about it.  You didn’t know anything else.  That’s all.  You were so sure that being a Dependent was a bad thing.  I think Sherlock’s helped you se the light with that.  We serve as a balance for Independents.  We are not their inferiors in any regards.”

John nodded.  “I understand that now.”

“Thanks to Sherlock,” Lestrade pointed out.

John refused to comment on that.  “But what does this have to do with the display?”

“Well, I’m afraid that you probably still have some misconceptions of what a display is.  You see, it’s not meant to publically humiliate the Dependent.  It’s not about being dominated.  What it is about is showing that you have that intimacy with your Independent.  And it’s for the Independent to prove himself.  That he knows you intimately.  You see, this tradition was started back when arrange marriages were still happening.  For one, it forced a consummation of marriage for couples who were together for financial purposes.  But for another, an Independent had to actually get to know his Dependent.  It served as a protection,” Lestrade explained.

After letting that all sink in, John shifted a bit uncomfortably.  “Would you mind telling me about your display?  I-I mean, I don’t want the gory details or anything.  I just… you know… I’ve only seen movies and telly.”

Lestrade smiled before taking another drink of tea.  “We had a small, private display – Mycroft and I – after I got tattooed.  Sherlock said he couldn’t come because he had a ‘thing,’ but Mycroft forced him to come to be one of our witnesses.  My sister was the other one. I was just like you – nervous and scared – but Mycroft didn’t force me to ever look at them, and I think that helped immensely.  That, and Mycroft knew what to do to make me relax and enjoy myself.  Honestly, John, I forgot entirely that there were even people there.  It just seemed like a proper intimate moment between us.  And do you know what else?”

“What?”

Ruffling John’s hair, Lestrade stated, “There was never any awkwardness between either me or my sister.  She understood, and she signed the papers that finalized our – well, marriage.  There’s not really a better word for that anymore, is there?  It’s just a flat out marriage by the end of it.”

“A-and Mycroft didn’t change once you two were bonded?” John pressed.

Lestrade’s eyes widened.  “Oh,” he murmured.  “Is that what you’re scared of, John?  You think that Sherlock is going to change once he has you as a Dependent?”

“It’s not out of the realm of possibilities!” John pointed out defensively.  “I’ve heard about plenty of stories of Independents suddenly turning possessive or even cruel towards their Dependent once they’re claimed.”

“Alright then,” Lestrade stated.  “I’m going to take that concern off the table.  Should Sherlock start to change and become abusive towards you, I want you to come to me immediately.  You come to me, and I will take care of everything.  Do you understand?”

John mumbled, “Yes, I understand.”

“So what do you do if you think Sherlock isn’t treating you right?” Lestrade pressed.

John answered, “I go to you.”

“That’s my boy.”  With that, Lestrade ruffled John’s hair again.  “John, I know this is daunting.  I know this is going to be the biggest decision you’ve ever made in your life.  But I also know that this is the best decision that you could make.  For both you and Sherlock.  I mean, you trust him, don’t you?”

“With my life.”

“Then there you go.  Why would you want anyone less to be your Independent?”

Feeling more confident now, John replied, “I wouldn’t.”

John took a moment to think on that.  He wouldn’t want anyone besides Sherlock.  After all, he had always been sure that he would never be with anyone.  He would never be claimed.  He would just get by and pretend to be an Independent as long as he could.  But then Sherlock appeared out of nowhere, and he managed to wriggle his way into the centre of John’s life.  What’s more, John didn’t even mind.  A lot of nights, he wound up crashing in the spare bedroom at 221 Baker Street.  Mrs Hudson always took care of them and popped up to gossip about the latest new on Mrs Turner’s tenants or listen to what new crime was afoot.  In fact, he had fallen into that new lifestyle without even realizing that he was falling.

“No.  You wouldn’t,” Lestrade pointed out, his voice cutting into John’s thoughts.

“Thank you, Lestrade!” John exclaimed before jumping to his feet.  “I’m going to go tell him now.”

As John went running out of the café, Lestrade called out, “I’m glad I could help!”

Sprinting over to the nearest Tube stop, John waited impatiently as he made his way back to Baker Street.  After what felt like hours later, he finally arrived at the doorstep.  John fumbled with his key before he managed to open the front door.  Immediately, he ran up the stairs to Sherlock’s flat.  He burst in only to find no one was there.

“Of course,” John groaned before flopping down onto the sofa.  He had gotten ahead of himself and forgot to even find out if Sherlock was home.  No matter.  He would just wait until Sherlock got back.  After all, they weren’t on a case.  Closing his eyes, he hummed softly and sank into the sofa.

 Some time later, a voice called out, “John, wake up.”

Groggy, John twisted and yawned.  “Hm?”

“We’ve talked about you sleeping on the sofa before,” Sherlock reminded him.

“I didn’t mean to sleep.  I was waiting for you to get back home!” John pointed out.

Tilting his head, Sherlock responded, “So you’ve finally decided?”

“Yes,” John replied.

Sherlock’s lip twitched into a brief smile.  He already knew the answer.  Running his fingers through John’s hair, he leaned down and carefully pressed his lips against John’s.  John hummed for a moment, kissing him back.  It felt nice, especially since Sherlock was freshly shaven basically 24/7 – John swore he had to shave five times a day – and he lost himself in the kiss for a moment.

“You could have at least let me say it,” he mumbled against Sherlock’s lips, not actually upset.

Sherlock hummed.  “Then say it if you want.”

“I will do you the honour of being your Dependent,” John stated with a smirk.

Smirking back, Sherlock was clearly amused.  He leaned down and nipped at John’s lower lip before kissing him deeply.  “Good to see you haven’t lost that spirit,” he commented before dragging John close to him.

“So what are we doing for our display?”

Sherlock pulled back.  “You’ve successfully discovered a way to divert any affections I might show towards you with that line of questioning.”

“You don’t approve of it then?  Displaying?”

“I think it’s out-dated and fetishized by the majority of the public.  Its original significance and meaning is gone,” Sherlock answered.  “And proving you consummated the union?  We’re no longer living in the medieval ages.”

John tilted his head.  “So then are we not going to have one?”

“Unfortunately, Mycroft holds grudges, and he won’t let the paperwork go through without a proper display.  One that he demands to be at.”

“So we will be having one,” John responded before nodding absentmindedly.

Sherlock responded, We will.  Private and small.  Minimum of two people.  Who would you like your person to be?”

“Lestrade,” John answered without hesitation.

Sherlock gave a curt nod.  “Mycroft will demand to be there, so it’s probably best that it’s them as a couple.  He’ll sign off on our papers and get them into the system.”

John started to feel nervous again.  He knew that this was going to be happening no matter what now.  Committing to this had been the first step, and he wasn’t the kind of man to renege on his offer.  His breathing became heavier, but nothing else changed about his disposition.  Even so, Sherlock eyed him.

“I want to have the tattoo filled before the claiming,” John declared.

“Very well.  Any other things I need to know about?”

Shaking his head, John averted his eyes.  “Nope.  Nothing.”

“Relax, John.”  _Relax._   “I’ll take care of you.”

John could hear the sincerity of Sherlock’s words.  After all, he knew he could trust Sherlock with anything.  And it was as Lestrade said – this would be far more stressful on Sherlock than it would be for John.  He just had to bear that in mind.

“What does the Holmes crest even look like?” John inquired.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  “Do you no longer observe when it comes to NSY?”

“I can’t remember every detail from Lestrade’s back, thank you very much.  Although your colours seem to be white and navy,” John pointed out.

“How observant.  Now go fetch the laptop and do some actual research.”

Grinning, John did as ordered and pulled it up.  He stared at the helmet in the centre and shook his head.  “Deal’s off the table.  I’m not getting something that ugly on my back!”

Sherlock hummed in reply.  “As opposed to your family crest, which is so beautiful?” he pressed.

Quickly, John looked up his own family crest and made a face.  “What’s with the birds?” he inquired.

“Watsons have a special communication with our feathered friends,” Sherlock responded sarcastically before giving a small smirk.

John smiled.  “Oh, is that why I can communicate with the ravens at the Tower of London?” he teased.  “I always wondered why I got such strange looks from everyone else.”

Taking a drink of tea from his mug, Sherlock commented, “Yes, well, now you know.”  He suddenly placed a hand on John’s shoulder.  “Everything will be alright.  You know this, correct?”

John nodded.  “Yes,” he murmured.  “I know.  Believe it or not, I trust you.”

“Good,” Sherlock stated before walking off.  “And get all your rubbish moved into here as soon as possible.  Those dorms aren’t good enough for beggars.”

Grinning, John turned back to his laptop.  “We should at least make it Facebook official!”

“Don’t have a Facebook.  Useless.”

“Of course,” John mumbled before changing his status to “Betrothed.”  Before long, it would read, “Claimed.”


	12. Chapter 12

Today was the day.  John was scared out of his mind, but he had committed to this – to Sherlock.  It was strange to think about it.  About how much Sherlock had affected his life.  His view of himself.  In the end, he needed Sherlock.  And honestly, Sherlock needed him as well.  Even so, John was glad he had gotten his tattoo first.  Sure, it painful, but it relieved some of the pressure from their current situation.  Corporeally, he was claimed already.  They just didn’t have the properly signed paperwork, though.  Everything was filled out except for the signatures from the witnesses of the display.

“Relax,” Sherlock murmured into John’s ear, causing him to flinch.  “They’re going to be more interested in my performance than yours anyway.”

John flushed as he heard that.  “What if Lestrade doesn’t-” he started to ask.

“I was at Lestrade’s display.  I think nothing less of him,” Sherlock cut in.  “Now, take a deep breath.  They’re waiting for us.”

John breathed out before sucking in the deepest breath he could.  Opening the door, Sherlock stepped in first, shielding John just a moment longer before he stepped in as well.  John let out his breath as he walked into their living room.  Mycroft was sitting in Sherlock’s chair and Lestrade in John’s.  Both were silent and observant.

Setting the papers onto the table, Sherlock turned back to face John.  His eyes expressed it all.  _Relax._   John nodded to show he understood.  Slowly, Sherlock stepped forward and cupped John’s cheek.  He kissed him softly, letting his lips linger for a moment longer than necessary.

“Brother mine, we won’t be able to see anything with you standing in front of him like that,” Mycroft commented.

John was snapped from his reverie – thrown back into the present of understanding that Mycroft and Lestrade were there, watching them.

“Shut up,” Sherlock snapped before turning his attention back to John.

Once more, their lips met.  This time, though, it was hungrier.  Sherlock sucked on John’s lower lip before slipping his tongue into John’s mouth.  Moaning, John kissed him back desperately, grabbing Sherlock’s coat in the process.  They had never kissed like this before, but John was enjoying himself thoroughly.  He hummed happily before breaking the kiss for a breath.  In that moment, Sherlock removed John’s jumper, revealing his upper torso.  His eyes flickered to the scar on his left shoulder, the only mark remaining from his surgery when he was young.  Immediately, Sherlock’s eyes catalogued the information – memorising God knew what – before kissing down John’s neck.  John groaned, baring it, and didn’t register that Sherlock had moved him from being hidden to in front of Lestrade and Mycroft.

Carefully, Sherlock fished John’s cock out before stroking it slowly.  He thumbed over the tip and started to leave love bites all across John’s neck.  John gasped before moaning and arching into his touches.  Smirking, Sherlock pulled off John’s trousers and pants before grabbing the lube that was purposefully positioned nearby.  He slicked his fingers before sliding one inside of John.  Gasping, John arched up.  Sherlock took this opportunity, and he leaned down before latching onto one of John’s nipples.  With that, John moaned and tangled his fingers into Sherlock’s curls.  Sherlock smiled against John’s skin before sliding in another finger and beginning to search for his prostate.

“O-oh!” John exclaimed, shocked by the sudden pleasure.

“That took some time to find,” Sherlock teased before sucking on John’s bottom lip and drawing him back into another passionate kiss.

Kissing him back, John smiled.  “You just don’t know what you’re doing,” he jested right back.

Sherlock slid in a third finger before ramming it into John’s prostate, causing him to scream out in pleasure.  “What was that?  I couldn’t hear you over your moans.”

John wanted to retort, but another strike to his prostate muted him.  He was left at Sherlock’s mercy all whilst being prepared.  Slowly, Sherlock removed his fingers before fishing out his cock.

“N-not undressing?” John inquired.

Looking up at him, Sherlock paused a moment.  His eyes examined John as he lay there before he hummed and began to strip.  Obviously, he had been able to work out that John didn’t want to be the only vulnerable one there.   Once he was undressed, he took the time to prepare himself before sliding into John’s body.  John’s eyes widened as he felt Sherlock’s cock stretch him.  He had never experienced anything like that before, and he let out a groan.  Honestly, he wasn’t sure if it was pleasurable or painful until Sherlock nailed his prostate.

“Pleasurable!” John exclaimed, talking to himself.

Sherlock smirked.  “Yes.  It’s supposed to be.”

John turned red and wanted to hide his face.  Immediately, Sherlock caught his hands and pinned them down before he began to thrust into John’s body.  John bucked and writhed, almost as if he was trying to wriggle away from Sherlock.  Sherlock didn’t once let up, every thrust just as precise as the one before.  Before long, John came onto himself with a cry of Sherlock’s name.  Sherlock grunted a few thrusts later and spilled into John.

Panting, John shuddered as he felt Sherlock slip from his body.  He swallowed hard and tried to regain his breath as Sherlock pulled out something.

“Signatures here,” Sherlock stated.

Mycroft answered, “I know how it works, little brother.”

Suddenly, John remembered that Mycroft and Lestrade had been there the whole time.  He jolted up and let out a cry of pain from the sudden movement.

“Relax,” Sherlock ordered before running his fingers through John’s hair.  Immediately, John relaxed back into the desk.

Both Mycroft and Lestrade signed the papers before shuffling out of the room.  His eyes followed them, and he couldn’t help but feel relieved when they were gone.  “Well, at least that’s over with,” he noted before looking up at Sherlock.  It took him a moment before he processed that he was looking into the eyes of his Independent, and he let the grin slowly spread across his features.

Sherlock smiled right back at him.  “Yes.  Now we’ll never have to have sex ever again.  Thank God,” he joked.

“W-wait, that’s not what I was saying!” John quickly corrected.

Swooping down, Sherlock kissed John’s lips and smirked.  “I know it’s not.  Now up you get.  You have class in two hours.”

“Can’t you send in an excuse for me?” John whined before hopping up.

“I haven’t claimed you for five minutes, and you’re already trying to use my power for your own gain!” Sherlock noted with a grin.  “That’s my Dependent.”

Laughing, John headed off and showered before getting dressed.  Today, he didn’t mind wearing his Dependent-styled shirt.  In fact, he was a bit eager to see how his peers would react to the tattoo, having gotten it over the weekend.  With a final call out to Sherlock, John went trotting off to school.  He stuffed his ear buds into his ears but didn’t turn on any music.  After all, people were more likely to talk if they thought he couldn’t hear them.  The first thing he noticed was how no one approached him.  On the Tube, he usually got at least one interested party, but today there was no one.  The same thing happened when he walked into the building.  No one gave him so much as a second glance once they caught the tattoo on his back.

He waited outside his classroom, and he finally heard the first comment.   “Oh, my God.  He’s claimed!” one girl noted.

“No way!  I-isn’t that the Holmes family crest?” another girl pressed.

“It looks like it!” a bloke commented, and John bit back a smile.  “You don’t think it’s _Professor_ Holmes, do you?”

“Who else could it be?” the first girl inquired.

Removing his ear buds, John looked back at the trio and smiled.  “Yes, I am claimed.  Yes, it is Professor Holmes.  Yes, we waited until my grades were finalised.  Oh, and yes, I could hear every word you all said.  Honestly, people these days.”

With that, John turned back around and headed into the lecture hall.  He was fully satisfied with himself and his new life.  Being a claimed Dependent was nothing like he thought it would be, and he wished he had figured this out sooner.  It would have made everything easier on him and Sherlock to be sure.

As he settled back into his seat, he heard more whispers, but not a single Independent hit on him.  It was better that way, though.  His heart belonged to Sherlock Holmes, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I know it's been over a year since I last wrote Johnlock, but I came up with a new alternate universe (called - creatively enough, I know - Pendentverse) that I just had to share. I'm going to try to make it as simple as possible to understand; however, if you have any questions or anything was made unclear, please feel free to ask me about it.
> 
> Do not copy/duplicate.


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